Between the Pages
by hannahjap
Summary: AU set in modern day/real world. While cursing his boring life out in the rain one day, Matt comes across an injured, unconcious stranger. But while the boy will make his life more interesting, he'll also make it harder. MelloxMatt and MelloxNear.
1. One

_Author's Note: This is an AU (Alternate Universe) fic. It's set in modern day Winchester. As such, there are no magical notebooks, no Kiras and no Shinigami. While the fic is, well, unlikely (it is a story after all) it's all plausable. Don't be on Kira watch! As a side note, I am actually English, so I apologize if some cultural references are lost on you fellows from across the pond. I guess I'm thinking of the CCTV thing especially.. _

_Finally, I am sorry for the slightly cliche idea in the first couple of chapters, but it was necessary and isn't a huge theme throughout. Enjoy._

_-- _

**One**

Most things end with a body, but this started with one.

By all accounts, Winchester is not the sort of place you want to donate your youth to. It's too old a place that's too far from London and too expensive to live in. The weather was no better than anywhere else in England, which meant that it was only warm about three days out of every hundred. And so, as he often asked himself, it was impossible to tell why Matt was still living there.

Matt did not really have any friends in Winchester. He didn't have friends full stop. He wasn't exactly the most sociable person in the world…

On top of that, he did not even remotely like his job. Well, alright, he did a little. Just when everyone else was occupied and no-one was around. He worked in a library. He'd never wanted to, never even considered it; not until he'd needed money, anyway, and had seen the advertisement. No experience necessary. How he'd passed the interview he'd never know.

Matt had nothing tying him to Winchester, but unfortunately, there was nothing to pull him away, either. So, everyday he woke up alone in his dismal-looking little flat, walked to work, spent the day explaining the dewey decimal system to toffs, smoked and went home again. Every single day. Mind numbingly repetitive, but he had nothing better to do.

One day, a remarkably cloudless one at that, he got up and dressed as usual, and then walked to work. The library was relatively empty. Apparently most people had better things to do than be stuck inside all day, with only books for company. Matt found several occasions to abandon his post sorting through returned books in the back room to come into the main library and read. Only one of his superiors was around today, and she was too busy with her own matters to notice him. He was freed by five o'clock and left the looming building as quickly as possible. Sometimes, he would swear it was staring at him as he walked away, as if at any moment it would tear itself out of the ground and chase after him. It creeped him out, but luckily he found cause to turn a corner swiftly enough, putting the library out of view. Or him out of its view; he wasn't sure.

He noticed, with disdain, that as soon as he'd left the safety of the building, clouds had begun to gather in the sky overhead. Not white, fluffy innocent clouds either; big, fat grey ones which would probably start pouring water down on him as soon as possible. He hadn't had the foresight to bring a coat. Brilliant.

As it started to rain, lightly at first, he quickened his pace. As it turned more frantic, he grew more and more desperate to get home. He started to run. He was almost ten minutes off track before he realised he'd made a wrong turn. He cursed loudly and turned all the way around; pressing a hand to his forehead above his eyes to see better. He couldn't be sure which way it was back to the main road; it was either that way or that way… they all looked the same. He cursed again. Spitting into the rain, he ducked into a doorway to get out of the wet while he thought about what to do next. He may at least be miserable in comfort.

If this was going to be his life from now on, and it had been for a long time now, he should at least try to _accept_ it even if he couldn't enjoy it. It may not have been what he'd planned… but then he couldn't remember the last time he'd had plans further than the afternoon. It seemed an awful waste to give up on your life at twenty. He pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, removed one, lit it and shoved it into the corner of his mouth. He felt slightly better at once. As the veil of self-pity lifted, his eye suddenly fell on a puddle of gold streaming from behind several trash cans. He squinted, but whatever the source; it was hidden behind piles of rubbish bags. With a frown he dropped the cigarette on the floor and made his way cautiously over.

As he leant down beside the trash cans, he felt a wave of shock rush through him. There was a girl there, with her face squashed against the wall and her short, golden hair sticking out where he had seen it. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her out. Another shock. It wasn't a girl, but a young man. Now that Matt could see him properly he could tell, although there was something distinctly feminine about his face. Matt wondered for a second if he was dead. He could be holding a dead body and not even realise it yet. The thought made him twitch. He checked the stranger's pulse to find that their heart was still beating. On closer inspection, he saw that they were breathing too, if raggedly and lightly. However they ended up in a pile of rubbish didn't matter; they seriously needed to be taken to a doctor. Matt didn't have a phone with him. He thought quickly. His flat was probably only about ten minutes walk away; six at a run. How much more would it be carrying someone..?

Matt hoisted the damaged body into a threshold carry and made off as quickly as he dared in what he hoped was the right direction. He found himself able to run a lot faster than usual with the adrenaline pumping through him. This was going to be alright.

Four minutes later, he found himself outside his flat. Or, more precisely, at the door of the shop he lived above. The shop had been closed a year or so ago and the windows were all boarded up lazily, but the owner still rented the cheap little flat above to anyone fool or broke enough to go for it. Right now, that was Matt. He struggled his way up the stairs and reached his front door. He gently laid the boy down in the hall, at the foot of the door, as he searched in his jeans pocket for his key. Just as he pulled it out and approached the lock with it, he heard a strained gurgle from the floor.

"Dun… call a… amb'lance…"

The previously unconscious boy stared shakily at him with a single eye open. Despite himself, Matt couldn't help but notice how eerily intense the other boy's eyes were. He silently told himself to get a grip.

"What do you mean; you're hurt!" Matt said with a frown. The boy shook his head and closed his eye, appearing to pass out again. Matt sighed. They were obviously delirious. But then… it had obviously taken a lot of strength for them to squeeze the words out. And they'd stared at him with such ferocity, that he couldn't help but wonder if they had known exactly what they were saying. Maybe… maybe he had better not get involved.

And yet… he couldn't leave someone in this state all by themselves. He looked them over. Only their face and arms were visible, but both were badly scratched and bruised. The eye he hadn't managed to open was spectacularly black and blue. Matt had an unsettling feeling that whatever had happened to him, he wasn't supposed to wake up from it. Maybe he _shouldn't_ get involved. But he couldn't do that. Scolding himself for being too nice, or too much of a pushover when it came to unconscious strangers, he unlocked his door and carried the boy inside.

Matt made sure all the bolts on the door were fastened and the curtains closed. His flat only had three rooms; a tiny bathroom, a bedroom and a kitchen/dining room/living room all crammed into one. He momentarily considered dumping his newly found mystery on the worn out old sofa, but found he was already carrying them through to the bedroom. He dumped the body on the bed and turned on the light. In the yellowy glow, the bruising on their face and arms was much more apparent. Matt wondered if they were bleeding from any hidden wounds. Maybe they'd even been stabbed. Or shot. He wished he could just bring himself to call an ambulance… but no, he couldn't. Not with the memory of the boy's stare burning in the back of his mind. He shivered, and in doing so, remembered that they were both soaked to the skin with rain. He changed his clothes and hung a towel around his shoulders to soak up the water dripping off his hair. The problem of what to do with his guest was slightly more daunting.

Eventually, Matt convinced himself that if he didn't do something, they would probably die right there in his bed. He would have one hell of a time trying to explain that to the police, or worse, his landlord. Trying not to look too hard, Matt peeled off the pair of leather gloves the boy was wearing. His fingers were unusually slender for a boy's and Matt wondered again if he was certain of their gender. He dismissed the thought and forced himself to continue. When he tried to stop, he just made himself imagine having to tell his landlord that there was a dead body in his flat. He found it a lot easier with the image in mind. Matt stripped the boy down to his underwear and searched his skin for any sign of deadly wounds. None. He was bruised and battered all over, but hadn't been stabbed or anything as far as Matt could see. He felt a rush of relief. No dead bodies today, then.

They did not regain consciousness at any point. Matt monitored their breathing and was glad to see that they remained very much alive. Eventually, he gave up watching the figure sleep, if that was what they were doing, and left the room, shutting the door behind him. He forced himself to eat something and spent the rest of the evening sitting on his sofa and staring into space. He'd brought home a mysterious, injured boy whom he had found in a pile of rubbish. OK. That was fine… but what was he going to do about it now..? He told himself that as soon as they woke up, they would tell him what to do. Probably just thank him for his hospitality and make their leave. Back to wherever they came from and whatever they did…

Matt smiled to himself. There was a boy in his bed and he didn't even know their name. It had been so long since he'd even spoken to anyone other than the little snobs who used the library and people he had monetary connections to. You had to appreciate the irony.

Matt lit another cigarette and wondered what he'd got himself into.


	2. Two

**Two**

Sometime around five in the morning, the boy in the bedroom woke up. As he pulled himself into a sitting position, he felt a wave of pain run throughout his entire body. His head screamed at him to lie back down. He groaned. He must be seriously hung over. He forced his eyes open and realised that he had no idea where he was. Someone else's bedroom, by the looks of things. As his senses slowly started firing again, he also became aware of the fact that he was only wearing his underwear. _Very_ hung over then…

He crawled out of the bed, trying his hardest to ignore that every nerve in his body was screaming at him to lie down and go back to sleep. His clothes had been folded and placed in a neat little pile just across the room. They were damp, he noticed. Had it been raining..? His recent memories were foggy. He couldn't find any of the previous day. Or a little while before that, actually… How much was he missing? He went over it in his head. He could remember his name. His birthday. Yes, he seemed to have almost everything, with the exception of… maybe a week or two. More than that..? It was impossible to tell. One thing was clear, however. It was certainly going to be awkward meeting whoever had folded his clothes for him.

He got dressed and then approached the closed door and pressed his ear against it. He could faintly make out the sound of a television speaking. That meant that whoever's house this was was probably in. He took a deep breath and inched the door open as silently as possible.

They had their back to him. It was a boy; anywhere between seventeen and twenty-something. They had amazingly bright red hair which obviously didn't see a comb very often. Oh, they weren't watching TV; it was a handheld video game system. They hadn't noticed him yet. He wondered if it would be possible to escape before they managed to talk to him. No, that would be rude. Well… not that he cared very much about being rude. It would just be polite to at least find out their name before getting out of there. He didn't even know how well he knew them.

Matt had managed about two hours of sleep in total. He planned to call in sick to work that day; he certainly felt queasy. It had hit him around midnight that the person in his bedroom was probably a criminal. Even if no-one had seen him help them, and no-one came after him for it, the stranger might be dangerous. What if, instead of being thankful, they beat the crap out of him to keep him quiet..? He didn't like the idea, but he was stuck until they woke up. He couldn't dump their body outside or anything; if they woke up he'd definitely be dead. Besides, they'd already seen his face. Unless they'd forgotten.

"Hi." Matt practically jumped out of his skin. He turned sharply around to see the boy leaning over the back of the sofa, staring back at him in surprise. Oh. He must have literally jumped then. He probably looked like a right idiot.

The blonde stared back at the apparently terrified redhead. Hadn't he been expecting to see him..? But he'd folded his clothes, and he must have known he was in his bed. Maybe he'd just caught him off guard.

"M-morning," Matt stuttered. They didn't look like a dangerous criminal; well, except for all the cuts and bruises and the black eye. Maybe they'd just been jumped in a back alley and left for dead? But then why hadn't they wanted an ambulance..?

"Alright. This is probably going to sound insensitive…" Matt waited. Whatever this guy said was probably going to be bad news. "But what's your name again..?" Wait, what?

"What..?" Matt asked, frowning. The boy seemed to take it as a need for explanation.

"Look, I'm sorry. My memory's kind of hazy. I don't know how I got here or who you are, so I'm sorry if we've been together for a while or anything, I just-" He stopped when he realised that the redhead was staring back at him in either horror or shock. Most likely both. This had obviously been going on for a while then. He searched his foggy memories for a trace of the boy. There was a flash of his face… but that was it.

"We, uh, together..? We're not together. I only met you last night," Matt babbled. Wow. He must have endured a more severe blow to the head than he'd realised. The boy looked relieved.

"Oh, great! No offence, I just didn't want to have forgotten a whole relationship or anything like that. I'm pretty sure I'm seriously hung over; my head is killing me." There was a pause. The boy was still staring at him in shock. Oh. "I'm Mihael by the way. I don't know if we were… formally introduced last night." He stuck out a hand. Matt took it carefully and shook it.

"I'm Matt." Mihael took the chance to inspect him properly for the first time.

At second glance, he could see why he had ended up in his flat last night. There was nothing feminine about him, but he got the impression that this Matt was guarded and somewhat shy around people. Or was that just him..? He had nice eyes, even if they were still wide and surprised. His hair was tousled in a carefree way and, from the front, framed his face nicely. Mihael could not currently remember if he had anything important or pressing to get back to. He didn't actually, now that he thought about it, even remember where he lived at the moment. Hey, for all he knew he was married. He smiled slyly. If he couldn't recall it, it didn't matter.

"So Matt…" he said slowly, allowing his eyes to wander down the boy's body. Matt twitched. "I can't remember what we actually got up to last night. Would you care to give me a walkthrough..?"

Matt leapt out of his seat and found himself halfway against the opposite wall. Mihael looked back at him in surprise and annoyance. Ah. His memory really was foggy; to say the least.

"We didn't get up to anything last night," Matt babbled; his voice growing in pitch.

"Please." Mihael scowled. "It's pointless to lie. If you've changed your mind about me now that it's morning, just say that."

"No, you don't understand!" Matt remembered his suspicion that this was a dangerous criminal of some kind. It did not inspire him with confidence. "I just found you lying unconscious in an alleyway. I was going to bring you here and call an ambulance, but you told me not to, so… I just left you in my bedroom over night. That's it, I swear!"

Mihael thought about the story. Now that he did, it made sense. He glanced over his own body quickly and realised that he was in fact covered in little bruises and scratches. He brushed a hand over his face and winched as his fingers came across various wounds. Aha. So maybe he wasn't hung over after all; maybe he had been in a fight or something. And this guy had found him and dragged him home like a little injured puppy. He suddenly felt pathetic.

"Oh…" he muttered. "OK then, well, sorry about that. I'll leave." As he reached the door, Matt sighed. He rested a hand lightly on Mihael's shoulder to stop him.

"Do you even know where you're going..?" Mihael shrugged.

"That's not your problem."

"Yeah it is." The logical part of Matt's brain was screaming at him to just let the boy go and shut up. "I made it my problem when I brought you here. I could have just left you to die in the rain, but I didn't. Come and sit down." Matt led him back to the sofa and made sure he sat down. Then he took the seat next to him.

"Why are you bothering to help me..?" It sounded like an accusation. Matt was slightly taken aback.

"Because… hell, I don't know." There was a long pause. Mihael refused to look at Matt; choosing instead to stare at his feet. Matt glanced at him before asking his first question. "Why didn't you want me to call an ambulance..?"

Mihael shrugged his shoulders without looking up. He could vaguely recall someone telling him that once. _Ambulances only take you to hospitals. _They had said._ And hospitals only lead to trouble. _Their face… was just out of reach. Just. It was as if he could see it, but he couldn't translate it into a picture which stayed in his mind. Their voice was the same; so recognisable, so familiar… but not there. It pissed him off and he found himself making his hands into fists. Matt was watching him and wondered to himself if it would be smart to interrupt. No, probably not.

"I can't remember why I said that," he said through gritted teeth. "Because I don't remember saying it. I don't remember you, I don't remember me; I don't know what I remember. But I know it's nothing freaking _useful_!" He stamped his foot violently on the floor. Matt hesitated without knowing whether to ignore him, comfort him, or tell him to stop being such a baby.

"I'm sure it's just temporary. You were pretty badly beaten up; you must have been hit around the head pretty bad," he said eventually. Mihael seemed to grudgingly accept that, as he snorted and crossed his arms angrily. But he didn't say anything or lash out again.

"Don't worry," Matt said as warmly as he could manage. Sadly, that was still only on a par with a day old cup of coffee. "I am sure it'll be fine." Mihael snorted.

"Yeah, OK. You must know everything, right..?" Matt was growing annoyed. Whoever this guy really was, he was being unbelievably childish.

"I have to go to work. Sorry," Matt snapped. He grabbed his keys from the table and marched towards the door. He paused for a fraction of a second at the handle, waiting to be stopped from leaving, but no words floated across the room and he left; slamming the door behind him. Mihael sat in silence. He was alone. He did not know where he was.

He got to his feet and surveyed the room. The place was… a dump. Obviously Matt, if that was his real name, didn't have aspirations of decorating grandeur. Why did he automatically distrust the name..? Someone had told him never to believe names. Who? Who had told him all these things? Who was swimming in the corner of his vision, never coming into focus..? He wanted to kick something, but thought better of it. Matt was already angry with him, and it wasn't as if he owed him any favours. Mihael did not want to be kicked out into the street. Maybe he could find something to distract himself from his anger.

He turned on the television, but the picture was pretty grainy and the sound was shot. He considered having a go at playing with Matt's gameboy, but didn't even want to know what would happen if he accidentally erased something. Matt may have seemed pretty mellow so far, but he looked like he had it in him to take Mihael in a fight. He'd managed to carry him from… who knows how far, anyway.

He made his way over to the fridge. If he could eat something he'd probably feel better. Opening it, he felt less inspired. Either Matt didn't eat, or at least he didn't eat much _here_. There was some suspicious looking milk, a half eaten sandwich partially covered in tin foil and a few limp vegetables in the drawer at the bottom. He was about to close the door, when something caught his eye. Amongst the vegetables there was… yes! He pulled open the drawer and reached for it; wanting desperately for it to be real. It was. A chocolate bar. He didn't care how long it had been there; probably far too long. He unwrapped it and bit a piece off. He suddenly felt like his old self. Although, of course, he still had no idea who exactly his old self was.


	3. Three

**Three**

Matt regretted his decision to go to work at once. Mostly because he was several hours early. The library wouldn't even be open right now. He'd have to wait. At least it wasn't raining again. Much…

As he stalked off in the general direction of the library, he wondered what he was going to do with the stray he'd brought home. Hopefully they would be gone by the time he got back. But he felt a bit guilty for thinking that. The poor boy had been attacked, possibly would be again, and didn't even remember why. Didn't really remember who he was… He tried to dismiss the thought; it wasn't his problem, but all that kept coming back was a nagging feeling that it was his responsibility now. He'd decided that it was when he'd brought Mihael home.

He ended up spending three hours at a bus stop, smoking. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the plastic seat, but it did not make time pass any faster. At one point, a couple of teenage girls wandered past and sniggered at him to each another. They probably thought he was a drug addict or something like that. Stupid girls.

When he eventually couldn't bear it anymore and made his way to the library, he still had to wait twenty minutes before it opened up. The librarian on duty applauded his enthusiasm and scowled at the cigarette still clenched between his teeth. He dropped it on the ground and stomped on it, smiling. As soon as she turned around he shot out two fingers at her back.

He took his time over leaving that day, still half-hoping that Mihael would be gone upon his return. Wherever; he didn't care. At least, the part of him that wanted the stranger gone didn't care where he went. Another part felt a twang of shame for thinking that in the first place.

As he was walking home, as slowly as he could make himself, he noticed something stuck to a lamppost. It was beginning to get dark, so it was somewhat of a miracle he'd noticed it at all. But his thoughts had been pulled in that direction already. So when he genuinely caught sight of the boy consuming his mind, it was a shock. He rushed over to it and pulled the piece of paper away from the post. The plastic cover was stained by raindrops, so he yanked the notice out to see it clearly. His eyes widened with surprise.

There was a picture. A drawing; not a photograph as you'd expect. He looked slightly younger in it, perhaps a couple of years, but was very distinctly recognisable. It was probably the fringe, hanging low to his eyes, or the same sly little grin that Matt had seen in person that morning. It was Mihael. Staring back at him from a missing person's poster.

The notice underneath the poster simply read '_Missing. Last seen on the twelfth of January, morning. If you have any information…' _And there was a phone number. Matt's head was spinning. The twelfth? _Yesterday?! _Someone had put posters up awfully quickly. That meant… that they were sure he was genuinely missing. And that could only mean trouble. No normal person would start putting out pleas for information so soon after a disappearance. They would wait. Probably call the police by the morning, but… It was trouble. That was all.

Matt swallowed the lump in his throat. He had a walking pile of trouble living in his flat. He had to go and do something about it.

When Matt opened his front door, he saw Mihael at once. He was sitting with his feet spread out along the sofa, surrounded by… chocolate bar wrappers. But Matt hadn't had any chocolate in the whole flat. Well, there might have been a little in the fridge left over from last month, but certainly not enough to produce the huge pile of waste foil surrounding the boy. The boy who was now staring at him like a kitten who had been caught clawing the furniture.

"Where did all this chocolate come from..?" Matt asked slowly. He probably did not want to know. Mihael drew himself into a normal sitting position. He cleared his throat.

"I bought it," he said quietly. Matt frowned.

"But… you didn't have any money. There was nothing in your pockets." Mihael stared at the floor.

"I borrowed some," he muttered. He was now trying hard to look at the door behind Matt instead of Matt.

"From who..?" said Matt, with a sinking feeling. Maybe he had assumed the wrong sort of trouble Mihael would cause him.

"You." Matt narrowed his eyes.

"So, despite the fact that I allowed you to stay here and didn't call the police or a hospital, something I really SHOULD have done… you stole from me and went out and bought chocolate bars..?"

"I'll pay you back… just as soon as I know who I am." Matt remembered the poster shoved into his pocket and had to cough to cover the unpleasant feeling he got.

"You shouldn't have done that; it was wrong." Mihael apparently felt cornered. He jumped to his feet with clenched fists.

"Oh yeah? Well you left me here without any food or anything to do for freaking hours! What was I supposed to do all day?!" Matt looked at the snarling expression he had caused to form on the boy's face. He was such an angry person. What had happened to him to make him like that..?

"I'm sorry. Yeah, I shouldn't have left you here by yourself. You… you can just pay me back whenever you can… Mihael."

Mihael recognised the absolution and relaxed. He returned to sitting on the sofa. Matt hesitated before joining him. Mihael reached down to the floor and searched through the pile of wrappers. He pulled out the last uneaten chocolate bar. Matt expected him to unwrap it and put it in his mouth, but instead he reached out gingerly and took Matt's hand. He uncurled the fingers and placed the bar in his palm.

"Sorry," he muttered. Matt's memory was drawn once again to the paper in his pocket. He could almost feel it burning him; the pencil eyes of Mihael staring angrily at him in his mind.

_Tell him, _it said._ Tell him about me! Tell him what you know! Why are you hiding it from him?_

Matt pushed himself to think about something else. He couldn't. One way or another, his mind refused to leave Mihael. He was something new; something un-boring in Matt's thus far boring existence. He made him interesting. Maybe Matt just wasn't ready to let that go just yet.

But was there more than that..? His brain turned back to the first time he had seen him; lying crumpled up in an alleyway, in the rain. Like a piece of rubbish. He had felt fascination with him then. Anyone would have done; a human being thrown away like that? It was bizarre. It was amazing. But… maybe there was more than that even.

He peeled away his opinions like an orange; trying to find the centre. When he'd brought Mihael back to his flat and laid him down on the bed. He'd looked… broken. Bruised and broken. Very, very pitiable. Matt had felt a pang of distress then. He'd wondered if he would die right there. He'd been unprepared for the boy to wake up, in fact.

When he'd first heard Mihael speak, well, it was a shock. Alright; the second time. The ambulance thing didn't count. When Mihael had said 'hi' to him the morning after he'd dragged him home. He'd been so… calm. Natural. As if waking up somewhere unknown and meeting someone for the first time whilst covered in bruises was everyday, boring, for him. It made Matt shiver.

"Tell me something about you."

The request caught Matt off guard. He'd been too immersed in his thoughts to see that Mihael had been looking at him for some time. He looked back now.

"Like what..?" He felt uncomfortable.

"Like anything," answered Mihael with a shrug. He wasn't going to break eye contact first. Matt had to.

"OK…" He thought for a moment. What do you say when a complete stranger asks you something like that..? It felt like a job interview. Or a date. "I… I'm twenty years old. Although I guess my birthday's pretty soon; next month, so I won't be twenty for long. I hate my job. I hate that it's so repetitive and I hate everyone I work with and the stupid, snobby little brats that come in to take out books they probably never actually bother to read. I don't know why I do it, I guess I just don't know what I'd do if I quit. I spend most of my time there in the back anyway, sorting through returned books. Sometimes…" He knew he was babbling but he couldn't stop. "Sometimes I write little notes and slide them between the pages of the books. So that someone will find them and, oh… I don't know. It's stupid."

"No it isn't." Matt realised with horror that Mihael had been hanging on his every pointless, drably word. He was even smiling, as if Matt's speech and not been utterly pointless. "What do you write, then..?"

"Oh," mumbled Matt, feeling his face turning red. "Nothing special. Just 'hello' or 'I'm watching you' or something like that." To his shock and, he realised, amusement, Mihael sniggered. He had actually enjoyed the story.

"That's interesting," he said. He didn't mean it in the way people usually do when they say that; that they weren't really listening at all. No, he really genuinely did find it interesting. Oh. Matt suddenly realised that Mihael was just taking an interest in him because he did not know himself. He felt immediately deflated. Mihael seemed to notice him frown and drop his head a little further.

"Why are you suddenly upset..?" he asked, a little irritated. Matt glanced up at him; confused.

"I'm… not," he said slowly. He was. He felt boring again.

"Yeah you are. Stop it. Tell me!" Mihael looked on the verge of another outburst of anger. Matt noticed he was still clutching the bar of chocolate he'd given him. He looked away from Mihael and began to unwrap it.

Mihael was torn. He wanted to be angry with Matt for ignoring him. But he was glad that he was eating the chocolate. He kept his mouth shut and watched Matt. Matt dropped the wrapper into the already sizable pile of them on his floor. He hadn't eaten chocolate for a long time. He broke a piece off with his fingers and placed it delicately on his tongue. He swallowed it. Endorphins, not the kind he was used to, flowed through him. He took some more, allowing himself to relax. He'd eaten the whole thing before he'd realised it.

"It helps balance out anger," Mihael muttered. Matt stared at him. He'd been so involved in the chocolate; he'd almost forgotten he had company.

"Yeah…" Matt murmured. "I guess it does." They allowed a silence to fall over the room. It was… surprisingly not awkward, like silences usually are with anyone less than a close friend. It almost seemed familiar. At least welcome.

"I feel bad about being here," Mihael said suddenly. Matt practically jumped. His mind had wandered again. To… enemy ground. Very, very unfamiliar territory.

"Don't worry about it," he blurted out, without thinking. "You're the most interesting thing that's ever happened to me." He regretted the words as soon as they'd left his lips.

"I am..?" He was smirking in that sly, mischievous way that some unknown artist had captured on the missing poster Matt still had hidden in his pocket. It was deliciously unnerving. "Then I'm glad. I won't be leaving right now then."

"OK," Matt said sheepishly. When Mihael leaned over to kiss him, he didn't pull away or jump off the sofa as he had that morning. Maybe… Because this really was the most interesting thing that had ever happened to him. He didn't want to ruin it.

Otherwise, he surely would have shown Mihael the poster as soon as he'd walked in the front door.


	4. Four

**Four **

Matt was loathed to go to work the next day. Although part of him knew he had to. After all, if he didn't leave then, it would have only grown harder and harder as the day went by. Until eventually, he'd never be able to leave Mihael alone for even a second ever again.

He didn't quite make it to work. When he reached a certain familiar lamppost, he found himself stopping. A girl was standing in front of it. In one hand, she held a staple gun. But in the other… He walked over to her hastily.

"Excuse me." She seemed to suffer a mild heart attack at being addressed. She wheeled around to look at him. She looked ordinary enough; light brown hair hanging down past her shoulders in two neat bunches; she was perhaps a bit short. Nervous looking. He looked down at what she had clasped in her left hand. The thing she was about to staple to the post before he'd interrupted her. Another poster. Exactly the same as the one he currently had sitting in a crumpled ball in the pocket of his jeans on the floor of his bedroom. She knew Mihael.

"About that poster…" He didn't know where to go from there. He realised that he didn't actually want to know anything about Mihael. He was his newest, brightest toy and Matt was not about to let go of him anytime soon. He had learned absolutely everything he ever wanted to know about him last night. But morbid curiosity drove him on. He may not want answers, but he was damn well going to get them. "Tell me about the boy on it," was all he could say.

"Oh, uh…" The girl seemed flustered. She was probably just helping out a friend by putting up the posters for them. They must not be hers. Matt wanted to believe that, because otherwise… She may know Mihael better than him. She would, in fact, and he didn't want anyone to. It was ridiculous. But he couldn't tell himself that. "Well, they went missing the other day, after a bit of an argument. We were just worried… I'm sorry, no offence, but uh, why do you want to know..?"

Oh yeah, that. What did he say to that? He'd been too busy wanting to hurt her for daring to know Mihael better than him. He needed to think fast. Too late; she was smiling.

"Have you seen him? Do you know where he is? We were so worried he was in danger or something… worse." She skirted the word 'dead'.

"I haven't seen him," Matt replied. He did not sound convincing.

"Oh please!" Any minute now she was going to get down on her knees and beg… "We really need to find him urgently! Any information would be-"

"I haven't seen Mihael!" Matt snapped. Oh crap. She looked confused.

"Mih- Oh…" Now she looked disappointed. "No, the person I'm looking for is called Mello. It must be someone else you've met…" She stared up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. "If you do see him, please phone the number on the poster. Just say you spoke to Linda already." She passed him the poster she had been about to put up then turned on her heel and headed off down the road.

Matt did not know what to do. It was one hundred percent obvious to him that Mihael was also Mello. He didn't know which was his_ real_ name, but it didn't matter; Mihael/Mello was wanted back by someone named Linda. She'd kept saying 'we'; how many of them were there..? Friends? Family..? He tried to push everything that had just happened to the back of his memory. It wouldn't fit. He stared down at the pencil Mello on the paper in front of him. It wasn't fair. With a pained sigh, he went off in search of a telephone box.

Dialling the number was hard. With every button he pushed, he knew the time when he'd have to go back to being a nobody was edging closer. There was a shadow in the phone box with him; one that was suspiciously familiar, but utterly unknown at the same time. Whenever he hesitated, they glowered at him. They told him it was only right. He had to send him home. Mihael did not belong to him; he was not some kitten he'd adopted. When he put the ringer down, the shadowy eyes burned into him; the same ones that stared up at him from the poster. He had to. It was not his choice to make. Eventually, he managed to finish dialling. He waited. It rang three times.

"Hello..?" A male voice answered. They seemed tired; uninterested. Distracted. Maybe even annoyed with him for daring to disturb them. He wanted to yell at them that they didn't deserve to get their Mello back. Instead, he found himself unable to say anything at all. The person on the other end sighed in impatience.

"Are you a client? Or is this a prank call?" Matt was neither. Or maybe it was a prank… as if he was going to laugh into the receiver and tell them that Mihael was gone for good. They'd never see him again. Still, he didn't say a thing. The voice grew ever more impatient and annoyed.

"I'm sorry, but I'm a very busy person. If this is a joke, then please bother someone who has time for it." Matt sensed that they were about to put down the phone and he couldn't let them do that. He blurted out the first thing which came to mind.

"Linda! I spoke to Linda already!" Matt found he was breathing faster than he should be. The voice on the other end was deadly silent for a moment.

"I see… she told me there was someone." Matt was slightly bothered that someone he didn't know had obviously been talking about him. "Where are you, right now?" The question was a surprise. Where they going to meet him at once..? He tripped over his words.

"I, uh, I'm…" he stuttered, looking around him for some landmark to disclose. "I'm in the phone box, uh, on Park Street. Where are y-"

They had hung up. Matt suddenly got the eerie feeling that they were already watching him. He huddled closer into the corner of the box; allowing his eyes to dart between the three nearest cameras. None of them were pointing at him, but… He didn't feel very comfortable.

He stayed there for quarter of an hour then decided that whoever he'd spoken to wasn't coming. Just as he stepped out of the phone box, he caught sight of something which thoroughly disturbed him. Standing opposite the door of the box was a figure wearing a raincoat, although for once it was not raining, with the hood pulled down over their eyes. It was obviously far too big for them, which meant their face was perfectly hidden from any security cameras. The oldest trick in the book; the only way to be invisible in England. It wasn't that which bothered Matt; plenty of teenagers covered their faces. The only part of their face which he could make out was their mouth. They were smiling. At him. They were smiling _at him_! How long had they been watching him for..? He knew that if he didn't approach them now, they would find him. There was something in the cool smile which told him that. _I am a ghost. _It said. _You will never see me coming. _Matt walked over to them, dragging his feet along the pavement.

"How long have you been watching me?" was the first thing he said. The figure, he noticed, was considerably shorter than him. They were probably fairly younger. That bothered him somehow.

"In private," they said. It was definitely the same person he'd spoken to on the phone. "I don't want to talk out on the street." Matt scowled.

"Why?" he snapped. They didn't answer; they pointed at the nearest CCTV camera, one which was now recording them, and then started walking swiftly off down the street with their head down. Matt hurried after them; he did not want to miss this opportunity now that he'd met it in the flesh. "Can't we talk in the phone box?" he asked irritably. For a short person, this guy walked exceedingly fast.

"It's probably bugged. I don't particularly want anyone to record my conversation." Matt was beginning to hate them.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he snapped. The stranger stopped walking and wheeled around. For a second, he almost saw their eyes.

"How long have you lived in this country..?" Matt frowned to himself, but didn't say anything in reply. They both resumed walking, a little slower than before. This was the sort of thing you read about in liberal rags, he thought. But it's not real. What is this guy, a secret agent..? Why is he acting so paranoid? And, he wondered, with growing discomfort; what is his connection to Mihael..?

The boy in the raincoat eventually stopped outside a small, neat house. The front garden held a pleasant collection of well-groomed flowers and shrubs. The curtains were all drawn as if it was night. Matt got an eerie feeling from the place. The boy approached the front door and knocked. Almost at once, it was answered. The girl who appeared in the doorway was the same one Matt had spoken to earlier. She looked nervous again. He suddenly felt it.

"I'm sorry Linda; could we come in for a moment..?" The girl attempted to smile, but her eyes kept darting anxiously to Matt.

"O-Of course. Is he..?" She stared at Matt. He wondered what was about to happen to him and wanted to run, but didn't.

"He is the one you spoke to earlier..?" Linda nodded. The boy nodded underneath his hood and stepped into the house. When Matt did not follow, he turned around. "Aren't you going to come in?" he asked in a manner almost inviting. Matt followed. As the door clicked shut behind him, he half expected someone to hit him with a baseball bat.

Instead, Linda led the two of them to a traditionally-decorated living room at the front of the house. Matt sat down in an armchair, still utterly uneasy. The boy who had brought him here carefully unzipped his coat. He removed it, finishing with the hood. Matt stared at his newly visible face. He had not expected him to look as he did.

The boy's face still had the roundness of youth, implying he was not yet out of his teens. He had snowy white hair which hung over his face but did not seem to bother him. He was almost inhumanely pale; his visits to the world of the sun must be few and far between. Or take place under a hood. His eyes… were dead. That was the only way to describe them. He looked dully at Matt. He was probably wondering if he was even worth his time.

"Would either of you like some tea..?" Linda stammered, trying to defuse the silence. The boy sat down in the chair opposite Matt.

"Thank you Linda," he said flatly. She scurried off. The boy continued to look at Matt, beginning to idly twirl a piece of his hair.

"OK, look, just ask me whatever you want to ask me or do what you have to do, just don't sit there STARING at me! It's… it's weird." Matt was beginning to feel himself panicking. The other boy seemed to find his outburst amusing, although he did not laugh and barely smiled.

"I am sorry, how rude of me. And please… call me Near."


	5. Five

**Five**

He still didn't ask a question. Matt was going to hyperventilate any minute. He wanted a cigarette, but felt it would make him look weak; clinging to his vice at a point like that. He wondered if this boy; Near, had any vices. Any weaknesses. Probably not. He wished that Linda girl would bring them the tea so he could stop looking at him for a few moments. Maybe she'd had the good sense to run away while their backs were turned.

Near blinked once. He was waiting patiently for Matt to speak. He wanted Matt to incriminate himself on his own. He knew full well that Matt knew what he wanted to know. But he wasn't going to ask for it. He knew what he was doing; Matt couldn't bear the silence for very long.

"I know where he is," he muttered, staring at the floor. Away from those awful, dead eyes. Although he couldn't see it, he knew Near had smiled.

"And where is he..?" His voice was so emotionless. Surely a normal person would be excited or relieved that someone they thought they'd lost had been found. Unless their reasons for looking for them were not exactly pure.

"He's…" Should he tell him? What was going to happen to Mihael if he did..? "…He's at my flat." He felt defeated.

"I see. If you would be so kind as to give me the address, I'll go by and-"

"What?" Matt stared at him in horror. Near seemed almost caught off guard by his interruption. "I'm not just going to let you go and get him! He's not a _parcel_. I'm going to come too." Near frowned.

"I don't think so. Mello is probably not going to be happy to see me. I do not want to get anyone involved in that." Matt got the distinct impression that he didn't care if someone got hurt, but rather that he didn't want anyone else around when he was reunited with Mello. He wondered if it had anything to do with the black eye or the being dumped in a pile of rubbish.

"_Sorry_," Matt said defiantly. "I'm going to come too. Otherwise I won't tell you where it is." Near's eyes narrowed. Before he could speak, Linda finally returned with a tea tray. She silently placed it on the coffee table, poured the tea into two cups, and left. Matt considered thanking her, but seeing as he did not like her, he didn't.

"I don't think you appreciate the situation, uh… what is your name?" Matt scowled.

"Matt," he spat. Near reached out and took one of the teacups. He didn't drink from it; it appeared to be only for show. It made the situation seem much more friendly and much less like an interrogation.

"I have to say, I was glad to hear he was alright," Near swiftly changed the subject, but not so far away that it made the conversation any lighter. "I was slightly worried that he would run into… trouble."

"Oh really..?" Matt said with dripping sarcasm. He too reached out and took a teacup. He too did not drink from it. "And who exactly is 'trouble'?" Near smiled dryly at him, perhaps appreciating for the first time that he wasn't a complete idiot.

"Just a few acquaintances that Mello got on the wrong side of. I was actually expecting to hear from them first; either with a ransom demand or… well, some fingers in an envelope." Matt shivered. Near seemed perfectly fine discussing murder over tea.

"They were going to kill him?" A statement, not a question. Near nodded.

"I assumed so. But if you met him then they either did not find him or they were kind to him." Matt considered the state he'd found Mihael in. It didn't seem very kind.

"He took a blow to the head…" Matt found himself saying. Near looked boredly at him. He didn't understand the relevance. "His memory… I think it was shaken up. He didn't call himself Mello. He doesn't know who did… that to him." Near suddenly became far more serious.

"Oh..? What did he call himself then..?" Matt didn't want to tell him. But it wasn't as if he could avoid it.

"Mihael," he muttered. Near actually laughed. Just once, and not in a pleasant way. Mockingly. He shook his head slightly as if Matt had told an amusing joke.

"So he's using his old moniker. I don't think he's even mentioned it for, well, years." Near stared up at Matt with a sardonic smile. "Of course neither have I." The way he said it made it seem as if he was letting Matt in on a secret. Only an idiot couldn't have figured it out. That was probably the point.

"Obviously," Matt said coldly. "What kind of parents would call their child 'Near'..?" Near frowned. It was almost a scowl. Matt seemed to have pushed a button.

"I wouldn't know," he said darkly. It implied more than it said, but Matt felt that going further down that path would be suicide. He wanted to get back to the matter at hand, anyway.

"I'm not going to tell you where he is unless you let me come too." He realised the irony in asking permission to visit his own flat. Near did not seem amused.

"No. I have to go by myself."

Matt jumped to his feet. He slammed the teacup down on the table. He glowered at Near; the unknown challenger for Mihael. Mello. He wasn't going to be told what to do by some teenager who spent their time looking over their shoulder and hid from the sun.

"You are not going. At all. I'm leaving." Matt turned with a flourish towards the door. He only managed to take one step.

"He's not who you think he is," Near said simply, without bothering to look at him. Matt glanced behind him with a scowl.

"You don't know who I think he is." Near sipped from the teacup. He fixed Matt with a stare which threw him off guard and replaced all his anger and hate with anxiety.

"I don't. But whatever you think; I know you are wrong." Matt could not leave fast enough.

He found himself going to the library, even though he was grossly late. He managed to sneak in and out to the back room without being caught. Or so he thought. The librarian appeared and lectured him for a good half an hour about lateness to work. As if he was ten years old. He 'yes ma'am-ed' his way through it. She reminded him that he was hanging by a thread and then told him to go and stack the shelves. He scowled and grabbed the nearest box of books. He stomped out of the storeroom and was about to go and start chucking books onto the shelves, when he saw him.

Mihael was sitting on the floor in the corner. He looked so fragile and small like that. He still looked very badly bruised around his face. The black eye shone through the curtain of golden hair. He was holding a book, but he wasn't reading it. Instead, he was carefully going through it, page by page, without looking at the words. Matt noticed the small collection of scraps of paper beside him and realised, as his stomach turned over, what he was doing. He made his way cautiously over, still holding the box so it at least looked like he was working.

Mihael looked up when he felt Matt's shadow fall over him. He blinked; making sure. Then he smiled.

"Matt. At last." Matt half-smiled and set down the box on the floor. He sat. His gaze fell to the papers that Mihael had gathered so far.

"Are you going through every single book..?" he asked. Mihael's eyes went to his collection almost defensively. As if some part of him worried Matt would take them back.

"I know they're not for me…" he said quietly. "But I just wanted to see them." Matt liked that he'd said that. It almost made him forget the white-haired boy still dancing around his thoughts.

"They're nothing special. I just write them for strangers." He smirked. "It makes life more interesting." Mihael looked at him for a second. He picked up the pile of scrap paper and placed them carefully in his lap. He held up the first to his face.

"Hello, whoever you are," he read. Matt felt embarrassed that someone was actually going through his work. Especially Mihael. Sickly, he was his friend. His only friend. Mihael picked up the next note. "I'm watching you." He picked up the third and final one which he had found. "Get back to work!" He smiled at Matt. Matt looked away, embarrassed. But he allowed himself a small smile.

"How many books have you been through?" he asked, with a curt little laugh. Mihael bit his lip. He was embarrassed as well.

"…About seventy." Matt choked.

"That many?! How long have you been here?" Mihael wouldn't look at him, but he was smiling behind it.

"I left the flat about twelve minutes after you did. But you weren't here… so I remembered what you'd said about the notes and I… well," he cleared his throat, then looked at Matt with wide eyes. "Where were you?" He almost sounded suspicious. He probably was, if he was anything like…

Near. Matt's mind went straight back to him. Sitting, smiling darkly in the front of his mind. Waiting. Waiting for Matt to give in and tell Mihael, Mello, what he knew. Because he knew he would. That last sentence before Matt had got out of there secured it. Matt didn't know Mihael. Near did. So Near would win. Whatever the cost, whatever the prize, whatever the challenge; Near would win it, because he had the power. He knew Mello. He had already won. Mihael seemed, if not to guess what Matt was thinking, then to understand it. Matt had just lost.

"Mihael," he stuttered. "I… I have something I have to tell you."

Mihael nodded. He knew what it was. It was him.


	6. Six

**Six**

Matt had explained everything. Although, as he'd been saying it, he realised how little there was to say. All he really knew was that two people were looking for Mihael. And that they were not normal people. The one thing he didn't say was 'Mello'. He refused to use that name out loud just yet.

Mihael… no, Mello, had nodded along with it all, his face darkening with every line from Matt's mouth. Some things suddenly seemed familiar. He could almost picture the house Matt described. Linda barely rang a bell, but the other one… Near. He darted in and out of his mind's eye, never clear, but Mihael felt he was so familiar. Painfully so. He just couldn't picture him quite yet… Matt hadn't described him; just said he was 'weird'. That struck a chord.

_You're such a little freak, Near._

Yeah, he'd said that. He remembered. He just couldn't visualize who he'd said it to.

He told Matt he needed to be alone for a while. Matt had nodded sadly and set about putting books onto shelves. Mihael left the library. Matt had given him the keys so he could get back into the flat; it meant he wouldn't be able to leave again in case Matt came back and was locked out. He would be trapped. About halfway there he became aware that someone was following him. Whoever they were, they must be an amateur. No, wait; maybe he was just an expert. It sounded right. It sounded familiar…

He assumed that whoever was following him, although he had an idea now who it might be, would turn off when he reached Matt's flat. He glanced over his shoulder to see them still hanging behind him. Just far enough away to be inconspicuous to a normal person. Annoyed, he opened the door to the shop and started up the stairs to the flat. He was shocked when he heard footsteps behind him. No, no wait a minute; he wasn't surprised. In the least. He paused outside the front door until he heard them stop behind him. When he spun around, they had removed their hood; revealing a smile that had been hiding in his mind just beyond his reach for days now.

"Hello Mello."

"Near," he said crassly. "Never one for manners." He narrowed his eyes. Near's smile, coldly sadistic, widened.

"No need for manners between old friends, now, is there, Mello..?"

"We've never been friends," Mello growled. Near shrugged lightly.

"And we never will be." There was a pause. They stared at one another; daring the other to make the first move. "Aren't you going to let me in..? Or are you worried how… _he_ will feel about it," he deliberately dropped Matt's name. Mello scowled and unlocked the door. He let Near walk in before slamming it behind them.

Near looked quickly around the room before taking a seat on the floor, opposite the sofa. Mello sat facing him, still scowling with narrowed eyes at the boy. Not a heartfelt reunion. Mello was the first to speak.

"I'm not coming back," he said quickly. Get it out of the way early on.

"Of course you are," Near told him coldly. Mello shook his head; he was being childish about it, but he couldn't help himself. Near was not amused. He'd obviously assumed it was going to be easier. "And why not?" he asked, with a strong hint of annoyance.

"I hate you," Mello said calmly. His eyes were not so calm. They betrayed what he was feeling; pure, simple loathing. Nothing but.

"That never stopped you before." Near cocked his head to the side, twirling his hair casually through his fingers. Mello looked away. Then he quickly looked back again. Away. And back.

"Well…" He struggled with the decision to look away. He didn't want to. But he should do, for his own sake. "I never knew anything else. And now I don't want to come back." Near frowned. This was not going to plan. He would have to try harder if he wanted to break Mello's resolve.

"You honestly don't want to come back..?" he asked. His tone suggested that he did not for one second believe it. Mello picked up on it. He clenched his fists.

"Yes, Near," he spat. Near allowed himself a small smile. He pulled himself up from the floor and moved to the sofa; perching next to Mello. Mello moved slightly further into the sofa. Away from Near as if he was a dangerous animal. Although he would probably rather be sharing the seat with a host of scorpions right now. Near held the smile still.

"Your memory must be more severely damaged than I thought," Near murmured. As he spoke, he began to use two of his fingers to walk up Mello's arm; slowly and in time to his words. "The Mello I know is not a coward. He wouldn't run away from me like this. Is that what you're doing..?" He'd reached Mello's shoulder. His hand hovered for a moment before he pulled it back. He was no longer smiling. Mello was frozen in something that was not fear, but which made him afraid.

"I've always hated you," he whispered, shaking his head. Near nodded.

"I know you have," he said softly. "You'll always hate me, Mello, because I'll always come out on top." Mello vigorously shook his head.

"No… I'll be better one day." Although their voices remained hushed, Mello gave the impression of someone who was shouting. Near gently ran a hand through Mello's hair, causing him to twitch.

"No," he murmured soothingly. "You won't, I'm afraid."

Mello could not remember where he was. As far as he was now concerned, he was no longer in Matt's flat. He was back in a miserable old house he had once known far too well. One with faded wallpaper and a listless garden. Old furniture. Hundreds of books. It was the place where he had met Near. And it held bad memories for that very reason.

Before Near, he had been the best. Unbelievable. And then… _he_ had shown up. And ruined everything. Forever. Alright, so not quite everything. There had been _one_ thing that wasn't his fault. Mello didn't want to think about that one thing…

He was fourteen years old. He was upset about… something he didn't want to remember. The one thing. Near had appeared in his doorway. He looked as emotionless as ever. A ghost. A ghost haunting an old, miserable house. He'd stayed in the doorway and he had said only one thing before moving away.

_I am not going to leave you Mello._

That should, perhaps, have been comforting. From a normal person to another normal person it probably would have been. Mello had at the time, and still, found it intimidating. Like a threat. Sitting here now in Matt's flat, it was more of a threat than ever.

"I wish you'd break your promise," Mello muttered. Near smiled slightly at having awoken the memory in him.

"I can't. I meant ever." He stroked a finger along Mello's cheek and jaw line. Then he stood up. "You will change your mind," he said. A command. A fact. He made his way over to the door and let himself out. Mello remained on the sofa without so much as blinking.

When Matt eventually returned later that day, Mello was still in the same position as he had been for hours. Matt felt uneasy. This didn't seem normal. Although, of course, he did not know what had happened. Not that he could have understood. He approached Mello gingerly.

"Mihael? Are you alr-"

"It's Mello now. Again." Matt was not reassured. Mello stared at him; moving for the first time. He couldn't seem to bring himself to look away for some reason. As if Matt was going to disappear as soon as he did.

"Are you OK?" Matt tried again. Mello nodded after a moment, slowly. As if he'd had to ask himself that question to be sure. He beckoned Matt to come over with one hand. Matt took the seat beside him. Exactly where Near had been sitting. He couldn't tell why Mello flinched.

"I'm sorry about all of this Matt," he muttered. Matt frowned, but tried to smile. He just about managed it.

"You don't have to worry, Mello, I -" Mello shook his head.

"I've got you into something you don't want to be involved in," Mello said forcefully. Matt was afraid that he seriously, seriously meant it. But he was even more afraid that it meant he was going to leave.

"Don't leave," Matt whispered. "I can handle it." Mello shook his head more aggressively.

"You can't." Matt didn't know how to convince him. He just knew he had to. He couldn't let go.

Mello saw where it was going. As Matt leaned in to try and kiss him, he pushed him away and turned his face in the opposite direction. Matt was hurt. That had been the only idea he had. After a minute or so, Mello looked back at him.

"I don't want you to get involved with this," he said. Matt was not going to take it.

"Let me do what I want!" he shouted. "You don't know me well enough to tell me that!" Mello was taken aback. He knew he was right. Why was Matt persisting so..?

"I know myself though," he muttered. "And trust me; there is no way you want to be involved in my life." Matt grabbed him violently by the shoulders and shook him once. Mello would, had it been someone else, hit him for it. As it was he couldn't even make his arms move; they hung limply by his sides and under Matt's fingers.

"Let me. Do what. I want." Matt glared at him. Mello, for the second time that day, was reduced to putty on someone else's whim. He cleared his throat and nodded, without letting Matt and he break eye contact. Neither of them, seemingly, made the first move, but their lips meet. Matt loosened his fingers from around Mello's arms. Instead, he spread them out behind him and pressed into the sofa cushion. Mello saw the invitation and placed his hands next to Matt's shoulders; leaning over him. Matt bit his lip. They kissed again.

Mello made himself hold back. He shouldn't be doing this. He just felt bad after seeing Near again. Near; how did he do it? He always seemed to be followed by a cloud of upset. He managed to disturb Mello; just by being in the same room as him. And right now he sat in the corner of Mello's mind and smiled slyly at him, as if daring him to keep doing what he was doing. Because he really thought Mello was going to run home to him after this one little hiccup. One little hiccup… that's all Near thought of Matt. He was wrong. As Mello curled his fingers through Matt's hair and kissed him, he told himself that Near was wrong. As he felt their tongues run together and their hands scramble over one another, he told himself Near was wrong. Near was wrong. That was all he could think. All night long; _Near is wrong_.


	7. Seven

**Seven**

When Matt woke up the next morning, Mello was gone. He searched the entire flat, but there was not a trace of him. He'd left. Who knew when.

Matt crumpled to the floor where he stood, which was just in front of the shower. He hid his face in his hands. He assured himself that it was a misunderstanding; Mello would be back soon. He'd gone out… for a walk. Or something. That was it.

--

Mello had awoken around dawn, dressed himself, grabbed a chocolate bar from the counter and then swiftly exited the flat. Too late he noticed that he'd put Matt's striped t-shirt on over his own clothes. He didn't want to have to run all the way back to return it. Besides, it was warm and he didn't have any sleeves on his own. He assured himself that was the only reason.

He reached his destination by seven. About the same time that, elsewhere, Matt was just waking up. He stood outside the building for a good ten minutes; telling himself that he could walk away if he wanted to. He couldn't; he knew it.

The building was just a small one. Only the ground floor, only the one door and no windows. You could see where they'd been bricked in. It was an office, but it looked like a bomb shelter. He reached for the handle of the door and felt a wave of panic. This was it; if he went through with it, he might not be able to go back. Ever. He opened the door.

Inside, he was met with a reception desk, behind which was another solitary door. The girl sitting at the desk glanced up at him quickly when she heard the door open and then found herself staring. Mello ignored her confusion. He'd never really liked her. He had always suspected that Near had hired her simply to annoy him.

"Linda," he muttered. She nodded in recognition of her name. "Is he here?" His voice seemed a little too needy for comfort. She stuttered for a second, as if she wasn't sure if she should tell him anything. He waited for her to get over the shock of seeing him again.

"Uh, I don't think N- I don't think he's seeing anyone right now," she managed eventually. Mello sighed and gritted his teeth. He really, really didn't like her right now.

"That's my office too. Just because I disappear for a while… My name is still on the door!" Linda glanced over her shoulder. He had a point. The wiry black letters which read 'Near & Mello' had not disappeared in the past few days.

"OK," she said quietly, and pushed her chair to the side to let him through. He brushed past her and opened the door without knocking.

He allowed the door to slam behind him. The room was dark as, obviously, no sunlight could get in and the light was not switched on. Mello could pick out the outlines of some objects and his quickly returning memory of the place filled in the rest. There was one desk in front of where a window should be, across the room from a filing cabinet. There was a lone desk chair and, tucked into a corner, a battered armchair. The armchair was his. As such, he was not happy to see Near sitting in it when he turned on the light.

"Why are you in my chair?" he accused. Near looked up at him with a small smile. He had obviously not been expecting a traditional greeting.

"I didn't realise you were coming back. I seem to remember you saying you didn't wan-" Near seemed to take in Mello's appearance properly for the first time since he'd entered the room. He recognised the foreign clothing. A sadistic little grin spread across his face. "Oh, I see. Circumstances have changed." Mello looked down at his feet with a scowl. He hated being caught out.

"No. I'm not staying," he muttered. "I haven't changed my mind." Near attempted to frown at him, but found himself quite unable to suppress his delight that Mello had slipped up and shown him his weak side. He'd paraded it around in fact. Might as well have come back holding a banner that declared for all to see 'I slept with that boy who found me and now I want to come home'.

"Of course you haven't," Near said dryly. "Want some tea..? We can talk about it." Mello continued to avoid his eyes. He seemed to have turned into a shy, fifteen year old girl in the last minute.

"We never talk," he mumbled.

"Maybe if we did you wouldn't run off and wind up left for dead in a backstreet." Mello stared up at him. Near's expression had turned serious. Severe. He looked away again.

"I didn't know that was going to happen." Near scoffed at him. He got to his feet. Even though he was still a bit shorter than Mello, he seemed by far the older of them at that moment.

"You didn't realise that chasing after some thugs was a bad idea, Mello..? I know we got into an argument over the result, but-"

"Look it doesn't matter, OK? I'm not going to do it again. I was angry. It was stupid. The end. Over." Near let it go.

In the silence, Mello took the empty seat Near had left him. It felt odd to sit in it again, even though it had only been a few days. He felt like a rather different person. Near continued to stand and stared blankly at him. He wanted him to talk.

"I don't want to come back," Mello said again. Near sighed, obviously beginning to get tired of this routine.

"What do you mean? You're leaving your whole life behind because of… one fight..?" Mello noticed that he was refusing to say Matt's name again. Or even acknowledge him, now.

"I'm leaving it behind because I hate it, and you, and I've found something better." Mello stood up, impressed with his speech, and took three steps towards the door before Near managed to completely destroy him.

"What would _he_ say if he knew what you were doing?" Near said quietly. Mello knew that this time he was not referring to Matt. He was talking about something that had happened a long time ago. Something they had both, he had thought, put behind them. It was just like Near to bring it up now.

He couldn't leave after that. It had to be the only thing Near could possibly have said that would have stopped him from walking out the door. It brought back memories. It put him back in the old house again.

He'd been twelve when he'd first met Near. He had gone downstairs one morning and seen a suitcase sitting in the hallway, at the foot of the stairs. He'd dismissed it and gone through to the kitchen. Sitting at the table was a sorry sight. A scrawny looking boy with white clothes and a black eye was there; someone Mello had never seen before. It was actually not the first time. Twice before since he'd moved into the house someone had arrived in the middle of the night. They usually moved on pretty quickly as well, though. Mello had been there the longest.

The boy had stared at him without saying anything. Eventually Mello had taken the seat opposite him and, if not to be polite then to break the silence, asked him his name.

"Nate," the boy had said quietly. Mello barely heard him. At that point he had decided that this boy was weird, but that he would probably be gone soon, so it didn't matter.

"I'm Mello," he'd answered. Near had looked at him in surprise and, perhaps, awe.

"Is that your real name?" he had asked. He had for a short while, Mello remembered, truly respected him.

"No," Mello had said, with a smile forming. "I picked it. You can pick one too; if you stay here long enough."

"Oh," he had said, deflated. And then suddenly; "What's your real name..?" Mello was caught off guard; he wasn't used to people actually speaking to him, really.

"Uh… Mihael," he said cautiously "Don't tell anyone that." He added quickly, as if he had revealed some terrible secret. Near had nodded.

A little while later, after Mello had got them both some toast, he asked Near what had happened to his eye. Near had subconsciously reached up to touch the bruise and thought about his answer for a second. Eventually he just said that he'd been hurt, and that was when they sent him here. They'd said something about potential. He hadn't really been listening; he was just glad to get away from his old orphanage.

Mello, growing curious, continued to ask him more questions. Had he been in an orphanage for long? Near had seemed uncomfortable with the question, but finally told him that he had, yes, for as long as he could remember. So he didn't remember his parents then? No, he didn't.

"Neither do I," said Mello. They sat for a second without saying anything. Mello laughed in an attempt to lighten the mood he had accidentally created. "But it doesn't matter, right? Who cares." Near had stared for a long time before eventually nodding. He even almost smiled.

For about a week Near followed Mello around everywhere. Mello didn't care; he liked that someone wasn't too intimidated by him to talk to him for once. He showed Near everything he needed to know. And then it all came crashing down around them.

There was a visitor. At the time, only Mello and one of the other children had been there the last time he'd come. Mello told Near about him at length. It was going to be great. Mello lived for the visits from his idol.

When he had arrived at the house, he had first come through and greeted everyone, as he always did. And then everyone else cleared out of the room; except for Mello. As Near got up to leave, Mello stopped him. He wanted to show off his new friend to his hero. Or vice versa.

"Who is this, Mello..?" Mello had grinned.

"This is Nate," he had said, nudging the boy towards him. Near had staggered, shocked. His eyes were wide with what was, quite probably, fear.

And something horrible had happened. Mello watched, with glee at first, as his only friend and his idol hit it off. But as they continued to talk and, Mello realised, the one person he truly admired grew more and more impressed with Nate, he began to feel dread. Mello was the best; he was number one. And suddenly he felt like he only came second. A feeling that, although he didn't know it then, he would never shake off again. He would from that point on be forever haunted by the knowledge that he was not the best anymore. And that he'd handed over his usurper on a plate. The last question was the worst.

"Nate's your real name, isn't it..?" the man had asked. Near nodded shyly. "Well, you're obviously going to be staying here. You need a pseudonym. It has to begin with an N, so… Near. Near fits. That is your new name." And he'd left without saying goodbye to Mello. Near had turned to smile at Mello, obviously expecting that he'd be pleased for him. All he got in return was a glower.

"He… chose your name…" Mello had whispered. Near obviously didn't see what was wrong with it. He seemed hurt that Mello had turned on him. Mello ran out of the room. When he was alone, he crumpled into a corner.

Mello had chosen his own name. Near had been given one by their idol. And the name itself; Near. Close. Beside. Next to. Meaning Near was always going to be the closest to the idol. He would always come out on top. And he was never wrong, Mello's hero, so he would only have given Near that name if he was sure. Mello was doomed to second. Forever.

Back in the present, Mello sighed. He turned back around and stood facing Near. Near half-smiled at him; he was being sincere.

"He wouldn't let me go," Mello muttered. Near nodded. "He'd make me stay."

"That's right," said Near. Mello gazed at him with, for once, no hatred. Only misery.

"Why did he chain us together..?" Mello asked, hoping Near would know.

"I don't know. But he was always right." Mello nodded. He sat back down in the armchair.

"He was, wasn't he?" A pause. "I wish he wasn't dead." Near moved to sit on the arm of the chair; as close to Mello as he could get without sitting on him.

"It wouldn't be any easier if he wasn't, Mello."


	8. Eight

**Eight**

Mello remained essentially stationary for the rest of the day. He sat in the chair in the office while Near worked around him. Occasionally, Linda brought him some tea. He didn't say anything; his mind was elsewhere.

It had happened in November. One month before Mello's fifteenth birthday. Near had long since become the golden child and Mello had grown to hate him. Near never completely seemed to have accepted that. That, or he ignored it. It was probably the latter; to make life easier. It was only the two of them and a couple of others in the house at the time. Their idol was due for a visit any time.

It was bonfire night. The sky was a constant pattern of multi-coloured lights from the fireworks. Everyone other than Mello and Near was outside making the most of it. Mello was in his room reading. Near was… somewhere else. It was then, November fifth, that it had actually happened, but they didn't know until the morning.

Mello could hardly even remember the details. Someone had told them both, at the same time. It had been pretty straightforward. Near had just gone quiet and not said anything. Mello had thrown a fit; shouting and kicking things. He'd eventually just fallen down onto the floor. That was when they said it.

Just because he'd known for years didn't make it any easier. _Near would be the one to inherit everything._ That was all he let himself hear. He stomped out of the room.

Near eventually found him sitting on his bed with his knees against his chest. He had been crying. Although Mello didn't know then, and never did find out, Near had already made up his mind. And that was when he made the promise that still haunted them both.

_I am not going to leave you Mello._

Mello looked up sharply to see Near standing in front of him with a file in his hand. He'd forgotten where he was again; in his office, in his armchair. With Near.

"Are you feeling any better..?" Near asked with concern; real or fake. Mello nodded slowly. He wasn't. Near put the file down on the desk and sighed. "Can I help?"

"No," Mello replied at once. "There is nothing you can do for me." Near hovered there for a moment, then went off to continue working.

In the days following the news, things began to change very quickly. Mello had not then appreciated the gravity of Near's promise. All he could think was that his idol was dead. L. L was dead. And he wasn't going to get anything from it.

He didn't really notice that everyone other than he and Near had been moved. One day, he came into his room to find that all his things had been taken away. It hit him then that he was being kicked out. That was only logical; the house was only supposed to be home to the very best. The ones that stood a chance at following on from L. So now that Near had been picked…

Mello hadn't said a word to Near since the day it had happened. He had barely even seen him. He arrived outside of Near's room and opened the door without knocking. He was surprised to see that not only was Near not there, but his things had been taken away as well. That was odd.

It took him a while, but he found him in the end. He was sitting in the front hallway. With two suitcases. Mello had walked over to him, making sure not to get too close. Near glanced up at him in shock; he hadn't expected Mello to pay any attention to him.

"What's going on?"

"I've been wanting to tell you." Near had been speaking irritatingly quietly. "We have to leave."

"I figured," Mello shot back. "So where are you going?" Near had stared at him.

"No… where are _we _going," he corrected. Mello frowned. Near went on. "You ran away before they told you. You haven't let anyone come near you for days. He… he wanted you too, Mello."

"What do you mean?" He couldn't tell if he was supposed to be happy or angry or what. He just came across as… scared.

"L knew neither of us would be any good on our own." He stood up suddenly. "That's what I meant…" He stared at Mello. He seemed scared too. "I'm not going to leave you. But… you're not allowed to leave me either."

Mello shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. There was only so much reminiscing he could take in one day. Near noticed he had returned to the real world and put down the papers he was looking at.

"Mello we need to talk about things sooner or later," he said simply. Mello grunted and didn't look over. "One thing in particular." He came over and stood in front of Mello. He was frowning slightly. Mello sighed.

"Matt."

"Yes," Near said. "What are you going to do about him..?"

--

Matt had spent the best part of the day lying on his bed and staring blankly at the ceiling. Part of him was waiting for someone to come and tell him what to do next. Another part was trying to reassure him that Mello was coming back. The last part was telling him to go and throw himself off the roof. That way, at least he could go out with a bang. Or a splat, anyway.

He heard a knock at the door and jumped. Mello. It had to be Mello. He scrambled to his feet and rushed through to answer it. When he pulled it back, he let out a sigh. Of relief; it was Mello.

"Matt," Mello said hesitantly. "I'm sorry I left earlier." Matt smiled a little too eagerly. He thought it was going to be fine now. Why not smile?

"That's fine! I mean, you're back now-" Mello lowered his head.

"It's not that easy…" he muttered. Matt froze. Yes; yes it was. As his mind started to go through every possible thing that could result in Mello saying that, one of them stepped into the doorway.

He'd been standing just out of sight until now. When he emerged into the light, where Matt would have no choice but to look at him, he smiled. Near. Pleased with himself.

"I hate to interrupt what I'm sure was the absolute highlight of your life," he started. At this rate, Matt was going to hit him. Hard. In the smug, self-satisfied smile. "But you've been holding onto something of mine for far too long now. It's over for you."

"No!" Matt yelled. Mello stared at him in alarm. He'd never looked so breakable… weak. Not even when he had nearly died. Matt glowered at Near, who looked at him with a blank, impatient expression. "I don't care what you say. It's not about you." He looked hard at Mello, expecting him to speak. He didn't; he merely shifted his gaze to the side. Matt felt almost betrayed by that. At least Near seemed happy.

"Right," he said, placing a hand lightly on Mello's wrist. Matt twitched. "I have to go. I'm really quite busy. I don't need a librarian wasting my time." He shot one last deadly look at Matt before wrapping his fingers around Mello's wrist and gently tugging him away down the hall. Matt watched them go without finding the power to chase or even speak.

Long after they had left and Matt had gone back inside and sat on the sofa, he got around to muttering his comeback.

"I'm not a librarian," he said to himself, aiming it at the long-gone Near. "I'm a shelf stacker. And I'm still better than you."

--

Later, when Near had led them both back to the office and the sun had retired for the night, Mello allowed himself to speak. Near was gathering a few files and loose sheets of paper together to go through before the morning. Mello cleared his throat and he spun around to face him at once.

"You were harsh," he said, his voice lacking conviction. Near nodded once.

"He was dedicated," was his justification. It was a good one. He finished getting his work together and tucked it under an arm. "Are you ready to go..? Linda will drive us. She waited especially."

"Yeah," Mello murmured. "We can go home now."

They'd lived in the same place since L had died. It was far too big for the two of them; three floors, four bedrooms. Mello liked to change which room he slept in according to his mood. Near always stuck to the same one; the one on the top floor by itself. Mello had always assumed it was because he liked his privacy. He hadn't ever thought about it hard enough.

The day they had moved in had been odd. Mello could hardly remember the place he'd lived before the house. Near couldn't remember living outside of an institution. Not to mention the fact that they were both only teenagers. The place had been bought using one of L's pseudonyms. No questions asked.

Mello had dragged their bags inside without talking to Near. He hadn't spoken to him for all of the first day, but now it was from awe rather than… fear. He felt free. Free from everyone except Near, anyway.

As the years had gone by and Near had thrown himself into work, Mello had settled into a routine. Most of the time he worked well enough with Near. But every now and then the hate and the anger boiled over. Then he'd usually run away for a few days. He'd come back bearing the spoils of war, whatever they happened to be that time; a black eye, bruises, love bites… whatever he thought was going to bother Near most that particular time. Whatever he was in the mood for. And then they worked well again, until the next argument. He had never, he realised, lashed out at Near directly. Not once had he hit him or anything like that. It was always run, run away and hurt himself. Then come back and show Near just how much trouble he'd got into. And make sure he knew whose fault it was.

Near had never allowed it to bother him too much before. Every time Mello wanted to go out and do something stupid, that was fine, because it allowed them to keep the balance for the rest of the time. Not so much this time. It wasn't that he'd almost died. That was bad; but it had happened before. Not quite like this, but close enough. It was that he hadn't really wanted to come back. He'd said he didn't want to plenty of times. He'd never meant it for a second. But this time…

The argument had been meaningless. It had been about a case that Near had seen as finished and Mello had wanted to pursue further. Eventually Mello had marched out looking for trouble again; this time in the form of a group of thugs who their task had been to catch. Near had reminded him countless times that their job had been only to locate the gang so that the police could move in. They had, but they'd only apprehended the leader. Mello wanted it finished. Near had known that the fight wasn't about the case at all, but rather because they hadn't had a fight for months, so he'd let him go. He had assumed Mello would stumble home the next morning with a broken lip and bruises having given up looking for the gang and settled for a drunken bar fight. When he hadn't he'd put up missing posters; feeling guilty.

Mello had been feeling particularly pissed off. He'd found three of the thugs and confronted them. They realised who he was soon enough and laid into him before leaving him in a pile of rubbish behind some trash cans. Where, two hours later, Matt had found him.

That, too, wouldn't have been too bad. But Mello's memory had been shaken up. He'd temporarily forgotten that he belonged to someone else and who he was. Without Near, or L's influence, he'd been truly free. He'd slipped up. He'd grown attached to someone else for the first time in his life.

Near didn't ever get angry. He never even felt it. This was the first time for as long as he could remember that he'd felt so eaten up inside. The first time he'd felt as jealous of someone as Mello had always been of him. He suddenly realised why Mello did the things he did. He didn't like it. He had to stop it. This was all he knew. He had to _save it_.

He wasn't going to let Mello go. Ever.


	9. Nine

**Nine**

Two days on and Matt had seen no sign of Mello. He was beginning to wonder if he ever would again. Technically, Mello had never said that this was it. He might still show up sometime. But whenever Matt felt hopeful, Near appeared in his mind and told him to stop being so stupid. And then he remembered the look in Mello's eyes. This was over.

Over over over.

Meanwhile, Mello was feeling equally conflicted. He drifted around the house and took a vague interest in work. Near ignored it. Paying attention to him like this would only end badly. Well, badly for him anyway. As such, he was caught off guard when Mello approached him about a week after he'd returned with a question.

"Near..?" Near turned around. He'd been flicking through a language book. It was a break from the usual, even if it was still, technically, work. Mello was hanging in the doorway, looking more alive than he had for the past few days.

"Mm?" Near hadn't spoken to him properly since they'd left Matt's. Whatever Mello wanted… it may not be something he wanted to give.

"I want to visit him," he said firmly. Near thought for a second. Then he nodded and got out of his seat to put some shoes on.

--

It had taken three months for the details surrounding L's death to clear and be relayed to Mello and Near. No-one, supposedly, outside of about five people knew L's identity. The person who had killed him certainly hadn't. But they had known he was a private detective who was after them.

It had been quite a big case, but not too big. Not huge in the media anyway. It had happened on the other side of the world; in Japan. Just a minor spat of serial killings, where the victims were mostly university students. L had taken a particular interest and investigated it.

Unfortunately for him, but very fortunately for the killer, he had decided to investigate in person. He assumed the killer attended or visited the university frequently, so he enrolled there under a pseudonym.

Sure enough, it turned out that the killer was a student. A highly twisted and corrupted genius. One who thought they were acting as a divine force of justice by killing off people they judged to be 'bad'. The victims were primarily female and each one of them had been poisoned. L had only witnessed one of the murders in person. He had been wandering around the campus when suddenly a student had collapsed a few feet away. They were swarmed at once by their peers, but he managed to get a close look at them. They'd just died and collapsed. It was that element which gave the murders an eerie, supernatural quality. The students of the university were told again and again that the victims had been poisoned, but many of them still believed it to be magic. Or just plain evil.

L found the killer after a month at the university and after twelve murders; eight of which happened while he was there. The victims were mostly all very public people, so any number of fellow students were linked to all of them. But eventually he found one in particular.

Obviously highly intelligent. Popular. Well-known. Not exactly hallmarks of a serial killer. It was the strong-rooted belief in justice that tipped L off. This student seemed convinced that 'evil' people did not deserve to live. He never said it like that; but it was obvious to someone like L. He was the one.

Sadly, the killer was even smarter than L gave him credit for. He was quick to figure out that the unusual looking 'student' following him around every now and then wasn't what he seemed. He had heard a rumour that a detective had been called into Japan to investigate the university murders. He put two and two together very fast.

L was surprised when the boy approached him one day and asked him what time it was. In all his time at the university, no-one had once even spoken to him. It was far too strange if the first person who did was the killer. But he decided to take the dare, and they became friends, so to speak, within a week or two.

One day, they were drinking coffee together in a small café. Mostly they discussed trivial things like work, food and sports. Today was different. The killer, who had since revealed his name to L, was uncomfortably quiet at first. L didn't like starting conversations so they lapsed into silence. Finally, he spoke.

"You know," said the killer. "These murders amaze me." L was shocked. They had not once mentioned the murders to one another, despite them being the talk of the university. The killer, he noticed, was smiling slyly. It was the first time L knew for certain that he had been figured out.

"Oh..?" he replied boredly. "Why?"

"Well… the mode of death I suppose. It has to be a form of poison. It's just how slowly it works. The victim doesn't know they've been poisoned for… well, who knows how long. I guess that varies from person to person and how much poison the killer uses."

L was not enjoying this conversation. He didn't know why the killer was telling him this now. At least they were in public, so he was safe, anyway.

"Yes…" said L. "But it can't have entered the body more than about five hours before. So the killer must have had some contact with them in that time." The killer laughed a little. His smile widened, cementing the image of him as a psychopath.

"That's probably true. It's a shame all the murders happened at the university, then. Any number of people could have been in contact with them in that time. You'd never find the killer unless you caught them red-handed!"

"But that wouldn't happen." As he said that, he wondered why they had said 'you'd never' rather than 'they'll never'. He was beginning to worry.

"No, probably not. Why would the killer reveal themselves like that..?" He took a sip of his coffee and L copied him. "Of course… they are doing this for a reason. To send a message. Maybe once they've done that, they'll give themselves up..?"

"I doubt it," L muttered, but wondered if his companion was about to do just that. Why else would he be telling him all this? The killer laughed a little again, enjoying himself a bit too much.

"Maybe not." He paused. "Killers only tend to reveal their plans after they're sure they've won. How's your coffee by the way..?" He took another sip of his, smiling to himself.

L's eyes had snapped open as soon as he'd heard the word coffee. He went back over the conversation in his head. He'd been so worried about the sudden subject change and having been found out, he had hardly been listening to the important details.

'_The victim doesn't know they've been poisoned for… well, who knows how long. I guess that varies from… how much poison the killer uses.' 'It's a shame all the murders happened at the university… You'd never find the killer unless you caught them red-handed!'_

He stared up at his killer, who smiled maliciously back at him. He could almost feel the poison now that he was aware of it. How this boy had managed to slip it into his coffee without him noticing he didn't know, but he had. He would die any moment.

"B-But… Everyone's going to know. I'm not like the others; you're the only person who speaks to me." The killer shrugged, as if this was a joke.

"Yeah. Well, they'll know if they test that coffee, anyway. I've made my point." He sniggered. "I'm just glad I could take you out with me. I always knew I was going to be caught eventually. I still won." He pulled his watch out in front of his face. "Oh, you've got about forty seconds to live."

L couldn't think of anything better to do than stare at the person who had killed him. It seemed too bizarre for him to be smiling lightly back, as if they were waiting for a bus rather than for one of them to die. But he was right; he had won. He just had no idea how impressive his victory was. For one of the world's greatest detectives to be murdered in public by an eighteen year old boy…

Near and Mello hadn't heard anything quite as detailed as that, of course. They knew the details of the murders, the victims, and where and when L had died. They also knew the murderer.

--

The car stopped, and the two of them climbed out. They were not outside Matt's flat. They were standing outside what looked like a very normal building. It was practically invisible, in fact, because of how ordinary it was. Near approached the door and pushed the button for the intercom. After a few seconds, a voice bathed in static responded.

"'Ello? 'oo is it..?"

"It's us," Near replied, and the door opened. He and Mello made their way inside. The door clicked and locked behind them.

It was no more spectacular inside. The reception area was grubby and abandoned. The intercom in fact connected them to the top floor, which they knew to be slightly more impressive. But that was not their intended destination. Instead, they headed for a door in the back wall which opened onto a filthy, deserted corridor which in turn gave way to a lift.

They stepped into the lift and Near pressed the button for the basement floor. It was a way underground. As such, once the lift dinged to announce them and the door opened to reveal a corridor, the only light was given by a few spluttering bulbs attached to the ceiling. They made their way down the corridor quickly.

Eventually, they both found themselves outside a heavy, windowless door. Near hesitated before opening it. They hadn't been here for years.

The room beyond the door was not pleasant. The walls were not painted or plastered; just plain, grubby walls. The floorboards were far into disrepair. There were only two lights in the room. One of them was a bare bulb above the only item of furniture.

It was, or resembled, a chair. The arms were covered in belts and straps to hold someone down. There was a large metal headband attached to the back which covered the eyes of the resident of the room.

They were being held in place by at least thirty binds on their legs and arms. The metal band was tight around their eyes, so there was no chance that they could see anything. But their mouth was perfectly visible. And when they'd heard their door open, they had begun to smile the same malicious smile that was the last thing L had seen.

"It isn't time to eat… so it must be you two, come to visit me." Neither Near nor Mello said anything. The man laughed a little. "My, it has been a while. What's the occasion..?"

They still didn't respond. Near glanced anxiously at Mello. The last time they had been here, Mello had been sixteen. After L's death, or rather, after the details had been released to them, Mello had wanted nothing more than to make the killer pay. His trial was still being held up due to lack of much solid evidence and, really, for the press. That didn't seem good enough. So, Near had intervened. As far as the world knew, the trial was still being delayed to that day. Technically, it was. It was going to be delayed forever. But the press had died down around the issue, so no-one cared.

Mello had never paid much attention to the date that Near had come and told him that they'd acquired L's killer. Even Near had only chosen to tell him then because of the irony of it. But it seemed amusing at the time.

On the fourteenth of February, Near had had L's killer shipped into a secret, private prison. Of course, as no-one other than a few connected parties knew that the real L was dead, it had been easy to railroad it through using his name. And the killer had been here ever since, all alone, and blind to the world.

At first, they'd come to visit him quite a lot. A few times Mello had got angry and hit him. The killer almost seemed to like that, because it showed he was still in control. And he was.

The first time, Mello had made the mistake of shouting at him. Screaming, really. About L. About how he didn't even realise what he'd done. That was pretty much when the killer had realised just how impressive his last murder had been. Mello explained it for him, without even really meaning to. Who he had killed. And the boy had laughed at him. He was proud of himself. Mello had broken his lip and tried to strangle him before Near managed to get him off.

After a while they stopped coming. There didn't seem to be any point any more. That last time, when he'd been sixteen; Mello had told the killer that he was never going to see the light of day again. The killer had sniggered at him and smiled.

"_And you'll never see him again. Which one of us is sorrier..?"_

Near was worried something like that would happen again. Mello didn't need to be pushed further into misery right now.

"I'm waiting…" the killer said brightly. "What do you want today..?" Mello took a few steps towards him. He stared at the sorry figure he was here to see.

He'd thought it would help him clear his mind. This person was the biggest reason he still did this. The main reason he was still a detective. He hated it. He didn't do it for Near; he barely even did it for L anymore. He did it because when he quit, that meant the skeleton in his closet, or the former serial killer in his basement, would have beaten him. It showed he was weaker than him. Weaker than the killer; because the killer could still smile and laugh whenever they came to visit. Only when he stopped smiling and laughing could Mello quit.

"I don't want anything," Mello said firmly. "You've given me everything I need." He turned to leave. Near went to get the door for him. Just before Mello stepped out into the corridor, he shot a last look over his shoulder. They were still smiling back at him.

"Goodbye, Light," he said.


	10. Ten

**Ten**

Two weeks now. Matt had been living in a sort of daze since the whole event. Before, he'd been happy enough. Or content anyway… Now that he knew that life could be interesting the mundane one he led was no good. No good at all.

He still went to the library every day. If he didn't, he would be out on his ear, and as tiresome as stacking shelves and sorting books was, it beat living in a cardboard box outside a chip shop by a slim margin.

It was a Tuesday. He was sorting through returned books in the back room. He'd been at it for over an hour and was getting tired; at least this was the last thing for tonight. Each time, he had to open the book cover and check the ticket was still inside. It was stupid. He reached the last book in the box and pulled it into his lap.

The book was a rather worn hardback copy of The Hound of the Baskerville's. Matt had flicked through a different copy once a few months back when he'd been bored. It was about, if he was right, a highly smug detective and his doting assistant. The book saw the assistant buggering off to the West Country to try and solve a murder where the mode of death had been a heart attack while the lazy detective stayed in London and didn't do anything of use. Of course, at the end, the detective shows up, solves the case, saves the day and takes his doting assistant home to London to do whatever detectives do when they're free. Matt remembered having sniggered at the idea of anyone being that in love with someone so self-obsessed and holier-than-thou. Why did the assistant go back when he was treated like crap by the detective..? Now, looking at the cover, he was angry.

He slammed it down hard on the floor. Then, realising someone might have heard him, he sighed and picked it up; flicking it open to check for the return ticket.

There was no ticket. There was, however, a small note. It had a page number written on it, followed by a capital 'M'. Matt turned to the page anxiously.

The text had been scribbled over in fat felt tip pen. Matt shivered a little as he read it.

'Matt.

I know leaving notes in books is your idea, but I had to steal it. I'm sorry. I am. But I belong where I am and I can't ever leave. I am sorry, Matt. That's all there is to it. Goodbye.

Mihael.'

Matt waited for a long time after finishing the note, just in case Mello jumped out from behind some boxes and shouted 'joke!'. He didn't, of course. This really was the end of it.

If only he could actually accept that.

--

Mello sat at the table facing the window. There was a glass of water sitting in front of him, and that was it. He'd been there ever since he'd got back from the library. He'd gone out first thing in the morning and been there before half of the staff, including Matt, had even arrived. The book he had returned was not a library book at all. He had in fact found it in one of the bookshelves in one of the hallways of the house. It had seemed appropriate. The librarian had obviously been too bothered by the early arrival to ask questions, and had just dumped it in the back room. Where Matt would find it later.

He'd come home, got the water, and sat still for the past five hours or so. Just thinking. His train of thought was broken when he heard the door creak open behind him and he turned around to see Near standing there. They stared at each other for a few moments before Near came into the dining room and took the seat opposite Mello.

"Where did you go earlier..?" he muttered, moving a hand nervously up to his hair and looking down at the table. Mello shrugged.

"I went out," he replied, also looking at the table. For some reason he didn't feel like telling the truth. Usually, with something as deliciously painful as this, he would have done. He'd even have exaggerated it. He didn't want to this time. Maybe he was growing up, or something; he just didn't feel like hurting Near anymore.

Neither of them had anything else to say, so neither of them did. The silence allowed them both to think, which wasn't really good. Mello thought about Matt. Near thought about… Light, actually. For some reason that was all he had been able to think about for the past few days.

Near couldn't bury the thought that Light was the reason; the reason Mello stayed. He couldn't forget how Mello seemed around the murderer. But more importantly, he couldn't _ignore_ the fact that if Light hadn't killed L then, Mello and he would have gone their separate ways long ago. The thought was hard to bear. No-one wants to owe everything they have to a serial killer. But Near did, and he knew that.

It was just now… after Matt. If anything was going to convince Mello to abandon him, it should have been Matt. And yet, Mello was still here, despite the fact that he was clearly miserable. Light had to be keeping him here. Near certainly wasn't and L was long dead. It was Light and what he represented that was stopping Mello from walking out the door. That was just too awful to think too much about.

"Oh," Near said, trying to drag himself out of his mind. Mello looked up from the table. "Linda phoned from the office, we… well, there's a new case waiting for us tomorrow…" He wasn't actually interested in it. Neither was Mello, but they both longed for the opportunity to stop thinking.

"That's good," Mello said flatly. "That will be good."

"Yes, it will," Near murmured. The silence returned.

The next pause was excruciatingly lengthy. There seemed to be absolutely no more small talk to bring up. When it came down to it, despite being in almost constant contact for the past nine years, they were very separate people who had very little in common. And nothing to talk about other than work, which there was none of right now.

After a long time, Mello got up to leave. He couldn't stand to sit in silence any more. He had to get out. He reached the doorway.

"Wait," Near said quietly. Mello only just heard it, but turned around nonetheless. Near looked up at him with his seemingly huge, lifeless eyes. Mello stared back with his cold, listless ones. "I'm sorry, Mello. I'm sorry about all of them."

"That's alright, Near…"

When he said 'all of them', he could mean any number of people. Mello's parents, who he'd never known. All the other children who'd ignored him or been scared of him in life. L, of course. Light, maybe. All the people who'd hurt him since they'd worked together. And most recently; Matt. None of them were Near's fault, but Mello knew that he really was sorry about it. For whatever reason. Mello attempted to leave again, but Near cleared his throat to call him back.

"Mello…" he paused. He had been staring hard at the table. Just before he said the next sentence, he looked up and met their gazes. "Mello, I love you."

Mello's eyes widened. Never had he once heard Near express his real feelings like that. Not… not like that. He didn't know what to do now. Near and he had always been playing a game with each other and, yes, Mello had always known that Near was attached to him, but not that. Never that. He had never even contemplated that. He didn't even know Near was capable of feeling… _that_.

Was he? Did he know what he was saying? But looking at his eyes, Mello knew that he did. He very very much… did.

Mello had never felt that way about anyone. He'd worshipped L, but that was utterly different. Love was not something he'd ever thought about. And, he realised, sickly enough, the only two people in his life he'd ever even been truly close to were Matt and Near. One of those people he'd known for less than a month and the other was here, telling him something he had never expected to hear from _anyone_. Let alone Near…

What did you say to that..?

Mello had taken a long time to respond, and Near allowed himself a tiny, sad smile. He hadn't expected or honestly hoped for the response he'd really have liked, but just for a second, as he'd said it, he'd let himself believe that there was a chance. Obviously not.

"I-I'm sorry," he said suddenly, finding his voice to be a little higher than normal. Mello was staring at him, so he glanced off to the side. "I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it; really… I didn't."

"Near," Mello muttered. He was feeling uncomfortable watching Near react so humanly. Near shook his head.

"It's OK. It isn't true, I don't…" He couldn't make himself say it. "I don't l- I don't…"

"Near!" Mello said sharply. Near looked up with a start. Mello had walked over to him while he'd been tripping over his words. They were side by side. He stood up quickly so that the height difference was lessened. Mello sighed quietly. Near found he was staring at him and couldn't help himself.

"Near…" Mello said again, softer this time. "…I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

"Neither do I," Near whispered. They looked at each other, hoping for an answer to appear. Mello wasn't used to seeing him so vulnerable. It was a shock to the system. It was sort of a relief, as well.

Carefully, Mello took Near's chin in his hand and cocked it upwards. Near blinked a few times in rapid succession; unable to grasp the situation properly. They had never so much as hugged in all the time they'd known each other. Mello lent down and slowly placed his lips against Near's. He held the kiss for a few seconds then broke away and pulled back. They spent another moment staring into one another's eyes, and then Mello kissed him again, harder. Harder.

They kept kissing. Mello pushed a hand into Near's hair as they did so. He placed the other on the boy's waist and drew him closer. Near didn't really do anything; he just let Mello do it. He wouldn't have known what to do anyway.

Mello eventually stopped it all. He pulled away from Near and took a step back. He was breathing faster than he liked. Near seemed stunned; he stared at Mello wide-eyed with his lips slightly parted.

"Near, this is a very bad idea," Mello said. Near began to nod, then stopped. He shook his head.

"No it's not. Not if… not if you don't mind," he said, his voice quietening at the end.

Mello realised that he was, indeed, completely right. All that was left was for Mello to make his choice. He could do this now, but then he'd be stuck with Near forever, no matter what. Even if Light stopped smiling. They'd be connected then; for good. Forever. No take-backs. Or, he could leave him there in the dining room and run all the way to Matt's flat. He could knock on the door and Matt would greet him and the two of them would kiss and that would be the end of it. But then he'd never really be able to come back to Near, would he..? Not after leaving him now. This was the pivotal moment in his life. He could go either way, but he could never go back.

He looked at Near, with his dark, grey eyes. He was so lonely and so sad. He really did love him. And then he thought of Matt, and the look in his eyes when he'd last seen him. How he'd looked then… was very similar to how Near looked now.

Mello thought about them both for another minute, then he came to a decision.

--

_**A/N --** Well, here we go; the halfway point. I haven't writen any more as of yet, for the simple reason that I wanted to know which way you thought I should take this. Don't worry; there is no happy ending anywhere near the horizon for a while. If ever. So here you go. This is your chance. Tell me! Who should mello pick? And please, tell me WHY. I don't want a pairing war, I want reasons! Dx_

_Love you all, by the way. :3_


	11. Eleven

**Eleven**

It wasn't the obvious thing to do. Not at all. Surely a normal person would have taken a different path. But Mello had never really been normal, and he never would be, so it only made sense for him to come to this decision. And there it was in front of him; the building which contained the solution to his problems. Maybe.

He went inside. He made his way along the hallway to the door. He paused. This was it. A moment, although he had only just realised it, which he had been waiting for for years. He opened the door.

Inside the room sat the person whom he had come to see. The solution. Near would probably regret pushing him to this decision. Not that he'd meant to. Poor Near, thought Mello briefly; he'd said the wrong thing.

Mello opened the door. They raised their head as they heard him enter, as if surprised. Mello was glad of that.

"Hello," he said, in a manner almost tender. They didn't say anything back. They must have been shocked after all. Mello smiled. He allowed himself to finish. "Hello… Light."

There came a heavy pause as Light wondered how to respond to the visitor in his domain. The visitor who… shouldn't be there. It was too soon. There shouldn't be visits in such quick succession. It wasn't normal. But as soon as the shock gave way, he smiled that insidious smile he always did and caused Mello to twitch.

"It's good to hear you again, and so soon, what's the occasion..?" Mello didn't think of a response quick enough, so he continued. "Are you alone? This is the first time ever, isn't it..?"

"He's not with me, no. I needed to speak with you… in private." Light laughed. He didn't even seem to realise the gravity of his situation. Or maybe he'd simply gone mad. Probably; probably long ago.

"There's nothing more private than a cage," he purred. Mello flinched; the weaker part of him wanting to leave then and there. He didn't let himself. He couldn't; he'd made his choice.

"I want your opinion." That started Light laughing again. When he eventually stopped, he spoke, with a gleeful tone.

"My opinion..?" There was a short pause. "Well, I'll give you it. After all, the last real conversation I had was with that precious idol of yours… His name, what was it? What was his name…" Mello punched him in the face.

"You remember his name!" he shouted. Light chuckled quietly and Mello recomposed himself. He wouldn't let himself do that again.

"You're right," Light cooed. "I do. L. Now it just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it..?" It was all Mello could do not to hit him again. But he didn't. When Light accepted that he wasn't going to be attacked again, he continued. "What advice could you possibly want from me? Aren't I a pet to the two of you..?"

"No," Mello muttered. He sighed, then allowed his voice to strengthen again. "But it has to be you… that I ask. So just keep your mouth shut until I ask you to speak." Light seemed to silently agree. He kept the wicked smile plastered on his face throughout, though.

"OK…" Mello began, struggling with the words a little. "You… you are the root of all my problems. And that's always been fine before, because I got by, because there's never been a _choice_ before. But now there is. And the choice is this…" Mello moved closer to Light so that he may lower his voice for affect. "Do I continue to let you control my life..?" Light didn't laugh, but he continued to smile sickly. Although, when he spoke, there was some sense of restraint in his voice.

"Well now… that really depends. Are you willing to look in the mirror everyday, stare into your own eyes, and know that for once in your life, whatever happens is your own fault..?"

"That is the question, isn't it?" Mello whispered. Light sniggered flippantly.

Mello pulled back and folded his arms over his chest. He gazed at the serial killer who had been pulling his strings for years. Of course, before that, someone else had been. If Light hadn't of killed L, it would still be the detective who owned Mello. In fact, from Mello's point of view, how could he call one better than the other..?

And then there were Near and Matt. And to be honest, they were doing exactly the same thing. Near had always been able to play Mello, even if he never meant to. And Matt; Matt had joined in the game just by trying to help. Everyone he knew was a player and he, Mello; he was just a chess piece. A pawn. A pawn in his own life. Pulled this way and that by a bunch of twisted, hedonistic chess players who didn't really care about the poor little piece they flung about the board. Finally, he was going to take a stand. Make a decision. Choose which side of the board he ended up on.

Light actually scoffed when he heard the gun click. A part of him had always expected that one of the two would go there eventually. Although… he had expected it to be the other one. The quiet one. The quiet one was in charge. This one was just violent and hurt and looking for someone else to hurt with them. They were no killer. But they still wanted him dead, and the quiet one, oh, he would be willing to do it if this one asked him. Maybe that was why he wasn't afraid when Mello pulled a gun on him. Maybe he just didn't care if he shot.

"I see… is _this_ your decision?" Light sniggered. He didn't see the intensity in Mello's eyes. He couldn't see anything. Mello smiled to himself. He lowered the gun. It was the first time he had ever actually smiled in Light's presence.

"Yes," Mello muttered. He leaned in towards Light, the gun still hanging by his side. Then he removed the cover from Light's eyes that had kept him in the dark for so, so many years. Light blinked once, despite the fact that the room was not well lit. And then, for the first time since he had been locked away in the cell, his eyes adjusted and he saw the world again. The first thing he focused on was Mello.

As he did so, his eyes widened and, finally; the smile fell from his face. It was replaced by a look of horror.

"Y-you…" Mello was caught off guard. He hadn't been expecting this reaction. "You're j-just…" He didn't know what to do; but Light seemed terrified. "You're just a… _child_!"

And that was it. In that second, Mello was finally freed. He was no longer under the control of Light, or L, or anyone. Light was afraid of him. He was afraid of _him_. All because he was young. Light had been a child when he'd killed L. He'd become a god in his own mind. And he'd spent years torturing his faceless captors. Now he knew; they were just children. Near and Mello; the two who had kept him imprisoned for a third of his life… were just two hurt, angry children. He'd been beaten.

Mello took a step back and raised the gun. Light shook his head, his freshly empowered eyes fixed upon Mello's face.

"I can't die like this! You can't kill me!" His voice grew in pitch and volume until he was truly screaming. "I refuse to die at the hands of _a child_!"

Mello allowed himself to wear the smile usually held by his now hysterical captive. He squeezed the trigger.

Light's head smacked against the back of the chair as the bullet connected. He was not smiling. Never again. Mello cocked his head to one side. He dropped the gun onto the floor, then he turned around to leave. He found, when he did so, that the doorway was blocked.

--

Mello didn't carry a gun around with him. He only knew the location of one gun, and that was at his and Near's office. Linda kept it under the desk in case anyone decided to cause 'trouble'. They had never used it. So it had come as a huge shock when Mello had burst in and asked her for it.

At first she'd said no, but he had persisted. Although he wouldn't tell her why he needed it. As soon as he promised her he had no intention of killing anyone, let alone Near, or her, or himself, she grudgingly handed it to him.

As soon as Mello had left, she phoned Near and told him about it.

After Near had awkwardly asked Mello to stay with him, Mello had hesitated, then told him that he needed to take a walk to clear his head. Of course, Near wasn't stupid, and he saw the look of resolution in Mello's eyes. He assumed Mello was going back to Matt and didn't want to tell him. Better to never come back than actually say the words…

When Linda had phoned him, he didn't want to answer at first. But she kept ringing until he picked it up. He couldn't understand what she was saying, she was obviously panicked, but she managed to spit it out in the end. As soon as she said the word, Near knew where Mello had gone. And it was not to see Matt.

Near hadn't left immediately. He'd struggled with his conscience, and finally broken down and decided to do the right thing. Before leaving the house, he made a phone call.

After the note in the book, Matt had trudged back to his flat. He took the long way home. When he unlocked the door, he was somewhat shocked to hear the phone ringing. He reached for it at once.

Near had been a tiny bit annoyed when Matt had answered. He was hoping he wouldn't be home. But he had answered, and Near had no choice but to tell him what was happening.

It didn't take too long to get there. Not when they were both fuelled by adrenaline. Matt, of course, didn't fully appreciate what Mello was going to do. He hadn't ever heard of a murder case from his early teenage years or a detective who died for it. He had no idea. Near did. And he was scared.

When the lift doors opened, they could both see down to the other end of the corridor. They could see into the room. And they both saw Mello raise the gun. Matt wanted to run. To stop it. Near wouldn't even let him call out. Matt's eyes had widened with fear as he watched Mello pull the trigger.

As Mello admired the last expression of his tormentor, the two made their way silently behind him and blocked his exit.

Here they were, the three of them.

Mello stammered, but did not say a word. Near looked from him, to the body, to him again. Matt seemed to have left his own body and the room from a combination of sheer horror and shock. His eyes seemed to have gone blank.

Near was the one to speak, in the end. When he did so, the other two stared at him. They all looked, as Light had pointed out in his final moments, like children.

"Well, Mello… what do you choose..?"


	12. Twelve

**Twelve**

In retrospect, he should have thought about it earlier. His decision; the choice between being simply happy and… well. Wherever his ghosts planned to lead him. He was sure he wanted to be happy.

If he chose to walk away with Matt, as he very well might, then he'd be happy. For a while at least. But then, perhaps the gravity of his choice would sink in and he'd realise that he had given up everything he had ever worked for and known until that point. And what then..? It would be too late, if he realised that after all of this he'd taken the wrong hand as he left the room. So… he couldn't do that.

Then there was the option of leaving with Near. The option he had until now always assumed was the only one. Would that make him happy..? It might. If he chose to do that, then he would eventually forget Matt and everything that had happened since he'd lost his memory. Or at least, how it had felt. And maybe then it would be good. Maybe then he could be happy. And if it worked out… then he'd have everything. But was it worth risking all for a fleeting hope that things would turn out for the better..? It wasn't worth giving up the chance to be happy, right now. So he couldn't do that, either.

And then he was back at the beginning, and Near was still watching him hopefully or hopelessly; he couldn't tell. For a second, he just let himself look at them, as if it would help. Near. Near was the same as he had always been. In far too many ways he was still just a lonely boy who wanted Mello's approval more than anything in the whole world. But in another, he was jaded and hurt and damaged. Not as much, never as much, as Mello himself… but enough. Enough to be broken.

Then there was Matt, who currently was still in shock. Matt was almost the opposite to Near. He'd never been hurt in his life; not until now. He didn't know the extremes that Mello and Near had seen. He was oddly innocent, in his own way. So very, very different to anyone Mello had ever known. And yet Mello had somehow managed to break him after just a few weeks. How clumsy of him.

He had to choose now. Near or Matt. Matt or Near. What to do. What to pick. How to end it. But it wouldn't be the end. There were no credits waiting to roll after he made up his mind. He had to live with it for the rest of his life. So he had to be very careful to choose the right hand to take.

"Mello… are you alright..?"

Mello snapped out of his trance and stared at Near, who had spoken. He seemed worried. As if the combination of pulling a gun on someone and making the biggest decision he'd ever faced within ten minutes of one another was too overwhelming for Mello. Well, to be fair, it was a bit.

Mello had never liked Near worrying about him, unless he was making him do it on purpose. He almost felt guilty when it happened by mistake. And it reminded him, now, that Near actually did care about him after everything he'd put him through. It didn't seem fair. Near had every right to hate him. Why, why, why didn't he?!

Did Matt have every right to hate him..? Yes… he did. After the note in the book, and what Near had said to him and even the way they had been first introduced. Matt should hate him too. But Near deserved to hate him more.

And that was the answer.

"OK," he said, his voice shaking ever so slightly. "I'm ready."

He reached over and took the hand of the person he had chosen. As he did so, his lip quivered before settling into a smile. The eyes of the other, the boy he had not chosen, grew wide in horror. Then they turned and stared down at the floor. Which just left the reaction of one person; the person Mello had decided he would leave with. Matt.

Matt didn't react for a couple of seconds. Then his gaze dropped to his hand, held in Mello's. Another few seconds spent staring at it. And then, he yanked his fingers away and curled them up inside his other hand, protectively, as if he'd been burnt.

Mello stared at him in shock. He'd chosen Matt. After everything, he had chosen Matt. Why was he acting like this? Matt looked back at him fearfully, still clutching his offended fingers.

"Matt, what are you doing?" Mello asked, his voice falling quiet. Near glanced up, perplexed by the unforeseen twist.

"Y-you just killed someone," Matt whispered. Mello couldn't find anything to answer him with. He didn't understand. "How can you expect me to act like I didn't see that..?" Matt bit down hard on his lip. Mello shook his head quickly; feeling things beginning to go horribly wrong.

"You don't understand why I did it, I-"

"No," Matt stopped him. He closed his eyes. "You were right… when you said I didn't want to be involved in your life. I just didn't appreciate at the time how bad your life could be."

"That's not fair!" Mello yelled; his voice cracking. "I picked you! You don't get to quit!" Matt's eyes snapped open and he glared at Mello.

"Why not?" he spat. "You did." He turned around and walked quickly towards the lift doors. Mello wanted to go after him, but he couldn't make himself move. He watched Matt climb into the lift and push the button to go back up. Before the doors closed, he shot Mello a final look. It wasn't angry. It wasn't asking him to follow. It just told him that Matt couldn't handle it. It said 'I was wrong'.

After a long time, Mello eventually turned to look at Near. Near had been standing silently throughout the whole affair. His eyes were on Mello. He was waiting for what he suspected Mello would say when he finally realised what had happened.

"Near…" Mello started, but he wasn't allowed to finish. Near cleared his throat to intercept him.

"I'll send someone down here tomorrow to… clean up," he said nonchalantly. There was something buried in his voice that he wouldn't allow to come out, but it was probably related to his sudden refusal to make eye contact. Mello didn't understand.

"What are you talking about? I mean, I get that, but shouldn't we talk about-"

"I'll ask Linda to gather up your things and keep them for you at the office until you find somewhere else to live." Mello was caught out. His eyes grew wide as he realised that he was, again, being discarded.

"What..? No! I don't want-"

"-me." Near finally allowed himself to look Mello in the eye again. Mello stumbled over a response, but couldn't form any words. "That's what you mean, isn't it? You don't want me."

"No, I-"

"Because, Mello," His tone was growing angry. "If you were about to say anything else then that makes you a liar. You wanted to leave here with Matt, without a second thought for me. You don't get to pick me just because he doesn't want you after all."

Near turned to leave as well. He reached the doors, but before he could enter the lift, Mello called out.

"But it took me so long to choose! Of course I gave you a second thought; and a third, and a fourth! I didn't want to have to leave you, I just… in the end I…"

"Sorry Mello," Near said quietly. "But it just hit me why you hate coming second." He looked back at the shocked Mello. He wasn't really angry, either. But then… he didn't want Mello to come after him, either. Just like Matt, his last look only said that he couldn't handle it anymore.

--

An hour after Matt and Near and left him, Mello found himself sitting with his back against Light's chair. In a better state of mind, he may have been perturbed by the serial killer's blood dripping softly onto his head and entangling his hair. However, as of now, he was hardly even there, and it didn't bother him.

It was oddly soothing to be in the company of his dead enemy. It was, after all, a memoir of his sole victory that day. Maybe if he had made his decision earlier it wouldn't need to be.

He'd always run to Light when his life stopped having meaning. Just the look of the sardonic smile on the killer's face would be enough to inspire him again. No more. Light was never going to smile for him again. Mello would never again have him as an escape if he needed someone to blame; someone to hate more than himself.

Even after all this, even though Mello had finally killed the person who had, he'd always thought, ruined his life… he'd lost. Light had won. He'd destroyed Mello's future once again.

"I bet you'd be laughing if you were still alive," Mello muttered.

And if he had been able to, Light would have smiled.


	13. Thirteen

**Thirteen**

Near wasn't surprised when Mello didn't return to their house by the next morning. Just a little disappointed. He hadn't slept that night; spending most of it wandering from window to window, room to room, and just wondering what to do if he did come back. He fetched his coat and made his way out, hoping to get to the office early.

When he arrived, Linda had obviously just got in. She was settling herself down at her desk when he entered, but immediately stood up as she saw him. She wasn't used to his arriving so early.

"Near," she greeted him, a little flustered. He didn't particularly respond; offering her just a glance. She nodded to herself and took her seat. After a few moments, she realised that he hadn't gone into the back room, and she looked up from her desk.

Near seemed to be stuck in the doorway. He was obviously trapped in thought. After a while, he managed to shut the door behind him and take a few steps forward. He paused, then finished the walk to his office's door. His fingers reached for the handle, but he did not open it.

"Near, what is it?" Linda found herself asking with concern. After the words escaped her mouth, she regretted them. She had never asked either of them about their personal matters before. He turned to her with surprise; as if he had forgotten she was still in the room.

"Oh, I…" he trailed off. He probably didn't feel comfortable talking to her; at least, that is what she instantly assumed. She sighed quietly to herself and shifted some papers around to distract her clumsy concern.

"Linda." She practically jumped. He was looking at her. "Do you mind going over to the house and getting some things for me..?"

"Oh… of course," she mumbled. She took a breath, composing herself, before allowing herself to continue. "Which things?" He seemed to struggle with his answer; it took him a while to form the words.

"Mello's things," he managed eventually. Linda blinked, unsure as to whether she had heard correctly.

"…What, all of them..?" she asked with surprise. Near nodded. "Why?" As she said it, she knew it had been the wrong question to ask. He frowned, without looking back at her. His gaze stayed focused on the door with his and Mello's names written on it.

"He has to go." With that, Near opened the door and made his way into the office. The door slammed behind him.

--

Matt had called in sick. As if he could stand going in and looking at other people; talking to people. Besides, he didn't want Mello to come and find him. Instead of staying at home, he'd wandered off along the streets until he'd found a random, semi-deserted park. He was tired, so he sat down on the nearest bench.

After half an hour of staring into space, it began to dawn on him what had happened. Maybe he hadn't even thought at the time about what Mello's life could possibly be like. He hadn't wanted to, in case it was bad. It was bad. Mello had killed someone; someone utterly defenceless, in cold blood. What could they possibly have done to deserve it..? Not that that mattered. What mattered was that Mello found it possible to do that. And Near had known what he was going to do before he'd done it, and had let it happen. So they were both just as bad in this moment. As far as Matt was concerned, Near could keep him.

That was what he wanted to think. It was what the rational part of his brain kept telling him to think, but he couldn't convince himself. He could lie to himself all he liked, but he wouldn't be able to stop himself from pining after Mello.

Matt buried his face in his hands and tried once again to tell himself that he was glad it was over.

--

When the sun had already set and Near showed no signs of leaving his office, Linda hesitantly knocked on the door. She received a wave of silence in place of an answer. After the third time, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

The light was switched off. When she turned it on, she found herself squeal in horror. Near was lying on the floor in front of his desk, motionless. She instantly crouched down beside him to feel his pulse. As she moved to do so, he opened his eyes and frowned.

"What are you doing, Linda?" he asked, allowing her to take his wrist. She made another high-pitched noise and dropped his arm.

"I-I'm sorry, I worried you were-" He pulled himself into a sitting position; sighing.

"That's alright, it was my fault." Silence crept over them; silence Near didn't feel inspired to break. Eventually, Linda couldn't help but speak.

"Wh-Why were you lying on the floor..?" She didn't seem able to look at him. If he'd been in a lighter mood, he might have enjoyed the awkwardness he managed to create in her. As it was, he couldn't.

"I don't really know," he said flatly; keeping any justification out of her reach. She nodded, having expected her query to be dismissed anyway.

Somehow, she didn't feel instantly compelled to scurry away back to her desk. That was not to say she felt at all comfortable sitting there; she didn't, but for some reason she was strong enough to make herself stay, this once. After a long time she went one better and spoke again.

"I'm sorry about Mello," she said softly. Near actually gasped. He was so used to Mello being the only one to meddle with his mind, that the idea of someone so much as offering their regards was totally alien to him. He turned to stare at her and she hunched in on herself, shyly.

He didn't say anything at first. He just stared at her and wondered who she was. He knew her name, of course, and what she looked like and where she lived. But that was it. He didn't know who she actually _was_. He'd never even thought to ask. He and Mello were so wrapped up and trapped in their own special, secluded little world that neither of them had ever bothered. And finally, it seemed that it was her and not them that had had to shed some light on the matter.

Come to think of it, who did he know? He had thought he'd known Mello, but obviously, after the events of the past few weeks, he probably didn't. He had never tried to get to know Matt; he'd just seen him as a threat that needed to be squashed. He hadn't known Light; he didn't even really understand why he'd done the things he had. And L. No-one had known L.

Which just left himself, really. And even though that was the person he spent more time with than any, he had no idea who he was any more than he did L, Light, Matt or Mello or Linda. No idea at all. But, sitting on his floor now, he was beginning to think he was perhaps not a particularly good person.

"I never actually realised before…" he started, causing Linda to jump slightly. "Just how complicated people are."

"People are like books," she muttered. "You have to make sure you read them properly." He nodded slowly.

"Yes… And not just that, because it's mostly lies. You have to read them in-between the lines. Even between the pages themselves…" Linda stared at him, silently realising that he was an actual human being underneath the cold front after all.

They lapsed into quiet again. Near looked through the wall in front of him, trying to look into his head. Linda looked down at her feet and the floor, wanting with half her heart to just leave. It seemed easier, for once, just to sit. After a while, Near climbed to his feet.

"I suppose I should go back to the house," he said plainly. She quickly joined him in standing.

"Oh, a-alright." He managed to make himself smile a little. Even if he didn't particularly feel it.

"Thank you, Linda." She blinked several times. This was a new situation.

"I… oh, that's OK." He nodded once and attempted to move past her to reach the door. In a moment of brashness, she grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him to face her. His eyes widened in shock in the second between her spinning him around and kissing him. It was soft, and lasted less than three seconds, but when she pulled away again she still turned scarlet and covered her mouth with her hands.

"I'm so sorry!" she spluttered, shaking her head vigorously and feeling tears begin to prick the corners of her eyes. Near didn't help by simply standing motionlessly. It took him a good minute to come up with a response.

"Linda, I… Well, you know I'll never feel anything for anyone-"

"Other than Mello, I know," she rushed ahead of him. "Sorry," she said again. Before he could try and console her, if that was what he would have done, she hurried out of the office. Near heard the front door open and close behind her as she ran away.


	14. Fourteen

**Fourteen**

He hadn't spoken to either of them now for a week. It had been that long, already, and it wasn't getting any easier to adjust to the idea of not speaking to them again. Even as he was telling himself he wouldn't see them again, it was the belief that he was lying that allowed him to swallow it.

The last person he'd spoken to had been dead.

For the past week, he'd been living here and there and mostly avoiding sleeping. He didn't exactly have any money, and he wasn't planning on going back to Light's building to sleep. He was stuck. It would be so much easier to just go running back to one of them, or both of them, or either of them, or any of them… but no, that was no longer an option. Not anymore.

He didn't even know what they would say if he did. Matt would either just yell at him again and slam a door in his face or, maybe, he'd crumble and let him in. That probably wouldn't be any better. Mello played the situation out in his head.

He would get there, take a deep breath, and knock on the door. Matt would open it slowly, expecting it to be him. His eyes would widen when Mello apologised; tried to explain. Then he'd look at the floor. He'd think for a while. Then he'd let Mello come in.

The two of them would go and sit down on the sofa. Matt wouldn't look at him at first, and Mello would have to turn his face towards his own. Then he'd see in Matt's eyes what he'd been trying to hide; submission. Because really, maybe, Matt didn't want it to be over. And then, when he saw that, Mello could kiss him. Matt would resist for just a moment before giving himself to it. And that would be when Mello would apologise once more, because Matt would have already surrendered. He'd nod slowly as Mello told him about L, and Light, and the things that had happened. Not in too much detail; just enough to show Matt why he had had to do what he had done. Why he was the way he was.

After he'd told him everything that needed to be told, Matt would admit he forgave him. They would kiss again. Then Mello would take his hand, pull him up from the sofa and lead him through to the bedroom. And Matt wouldn't stop him. Because maybe for an hour they could lie to one another and pretend the things which had happened before didn't matter, and that they wouldn't happen again. Because that's the point of happy endings, isn't it?

And after all that, Mello knew that he might still wish Matt would have just slammed the door in his face after all. No, it was too complicated.

And then, there was still Near. If that bridge wasn't too thoroughly burnt. Of course, Near would never slam a door in his face. But he might just tell him to leave, quietly and flatly, as if it wasn't of any consequence whether he did or not. It would be of course. And the alternative… He made himself imagine it in his head, lest he chose to go through with it in real life.

He would arrive, late at night, outside the house. He would rap his knuckles against the old door and wait. Eventually, and it would truly be eventual, Near would appear in the doorway in his ghostly white and wait for Mello to speak.

What he would say then… he wasn't sure of. He'd somehow convince Near that he'd been mistaken in wanting Matt. He would assure him he hadn't meant it. That might not be too hard, considering he still wasn't sure he had. After his speech, Near would slowly back away from the door and let him in.

Mello would close it carefully behind them, and Near would have already walked through to the dining room to sit at the table. When Mello entered the room, he would refuse to sit down. He would stand beside Near. He would ask him if he believed that he was sorry. Near wouldn't speak. He wouldn't know. He'd want to believe Mello, but know from experience that it wasn't always wise.

Finally, Mello would be unable to wait and would lift him up from his chair and kiss him roughly. He wouldn't let Near speak, even if he then wanted to. He'd wait until he felt Near weaken in his arms before releasing him. When he did, he'd catch the look in the boy's eyes that would let him know he'd broken his resolve. And then, delicately, he'd take Near's hand and drag him upstairs. Of course Near wouldn't stop him or tell him not to. He wouldn't even admit it was really happening.

Mello would take them to Near's bedroom, into which he rarely set foot. In the doorway, he would kiss Near softly and ask him, just once, if he forgave him. Near would hesitate, but, for fear of losing the moment, he would say yes. And that would be all Mello would need. All, until after he had pushed Near onto the bed. After he had felt the boy's hands in his hair and his breath catching beside his ear. All, until afterwards when he finally caught sight of the look in Near's eye that showed he trusted him. Then he'd be forced to ask himself if he would have given him a second thought after all if Matt had jumped into his arms originally and they had gone off on their merry way. And the answer could be nothing other than: probably not.

Mello was at an impasse. If he chose Matt, it wouldn't be fair on Near, whom he had known for the best part of his life and who he had always supposed he was never going to be separated from. Whether he liked it or not. Yet it also wouldn't be fair on Matt, _because _it wasn't fair on Near. It wasn't right if he was still thinking those things, and he didn't want Matt to slowly grow to loathe his failing to kick Mello out of his life when it was easy. And, of course, on the other side it was the same. If he chose Near, part of him would always know that it was because Matt hadn't said yes. And that was likely to kill Near a little. And naturally, either of those endings was going to make Mello wander off one day and casually splatter his brain all over the pavement.

The tiny snag, was that so was this; avoiding them both. As long as he couldn't just keep both doors open, he might as well stick his foot in one. There was no point losing everything.

--

He wasn't going to come. He must have chosen to try and win over Near, thought Matt. It was probably the easier option. He scowled. Even if he just ended up slamming the door in Mello's face, he'd still hoped that he was going to come crawling back and give him the chance.

It had been a week. A stressful, unpleasant week. He'd called the library and told them he'd come down with something really awful and probably contagious. He'd hung up before actually hearing the response after the stunned silence on the other end. He did, however, suspect that it had something to do with him being fired. For the whole time since he'd last seen Mello, he had been almost entirely planted in one of three positions around his flat. Flat on his sofa. Flat on his bed. Flat on the bathroom floor. The latter was usually an excuse to smoke without getting the smell of cigarettes in either of the other rooms. He was currently stuck in number two.

With his head pressed into his pillow and a scowl on his face, he thought through what Mello had probably done this past week.

After Matt had left, Mello would have turned to Near. Near would probably have gone into catatonic shock at the very thought that his precious Mello could abandon him. Mello would have reassured Near that it had been a mistake or that he had been confused or simply that he'd lied to Matt. Near would fuss a little, but he wouldn't have held out for long. Then they would have kissed and made up and, ignoring the fresh corpse they were sharing air space with, shagged up against the wall.

Well, maybe not exactly like that, but something similar anyway. And after that they could skip cheerfully off into the sunset and live happily ever after as pseudo-detectives, or whatever they were.

Matt kicked out at the air. He didn't care if it was selfish or stupid; he'd wanted Mello to show up at _his_ door. Beg him on bended knee to forgive him. No such luck. As expected, Matt just wasn't interesting enough to be worth fighting for.

--

He wasn't going to come. He must have chosen to chase down Matt after all, thought Near. It had been a week, anyway, and Mello had nowhere else to go. He must have convinced Matt that he was sorry. Or assured him that the murder was a just one. Near felt slightly uncomfortable at the idea of Mello sharing their joint history with someone else. Very uncomfortable, in fact.

Linda had left a note on her desk the day after she had… well, the day after those things had happened. It informed Near that she suddenly and quite desperately needed to leave the country to relax a little. She hadn't so much as taken a sick day in two years, so she was sure he'd understand. She would be gone for two weeks and hoped he didn't mind that she hadn't had time to remove Mello's things from the house before she'd left.

As such, he had had no human contact all week. In fact, he hadn't left the house after returning with the note. He'd barely left his bedroom; making routine visits to the kitchen to pour himself glasses of water. It was odd, coming to terms with how empty and dull life was without Mello. But, he supposed, he had to. After all, Mello had run away with Matt. He thought, finding a frown form on his face, about what must have happened earlier on that week.

After he had left Mello with Light's body, Mello would have taken a long time to readjust. Maybe even a day or two. Then he would have realised that, seeing as he wanted oh so badly to be with Matt, he would have to do something about it.

Matt would have opened his door at the sound of frantic knocking and Mello would have stumbled in. Matt would have been shocked, and maybe have told him to leave. Then Mello, in a far bigger betrayal than choosing him in the first place, would have told Matt all of their secrets; about Light and L and Near and himself. Matt would have naturally, even though he wouldn't have appreciated any of it, accepted that Mello had been justified in what he had done. He would have to. Near had seen Matt bound around Mello like a hapless puppy and there was no way he'd be strong enough to turn him away twice.

And after that, Near imagined, the two of them would have kissed each other's anxieties away. And then… probably done quite a few other things. But he didn't want to think too hard about that last part.

Unfortunately, having started, he found it hard to stop thinking about. Mostly because now he'd never do anything _but _think about it. Not now that Mello was never going to come back, which wasn't really fair. His frown twisted into a scowl as he realised that Matt would have got over Mello before too long, and found someone else. Probably plenty of someone elses. He, Near, never would. Never. He knew that for certain.

It wasn't fair.

Unsurprisingly, all three of them spent the night thinking that.


	15. Fifteen

**Fifteen**

Matt had learnt a long time ago that being selfish was never a good idea. Neither was being petty. But then again, neither was smoking and he seemed unable to kick that. He didn't really care whether he was in the right or not. He'd worry about that later.

When Near heard the impatient knocking at his door, his first thought was that Mello had come back. Of course, he realised after a few seconds, it was probably just Linda. She must have cut things short and decided to come over to apologise again. He didn't feel particularly enthusiastic when he opened the door. Less so when he was greeted by Matt.

"What do you want?" he asked coldly. Mello had probably sent him over to collect his things. And gloat. A lot. Matt didn't seem very happy though, as he shoved past Near into the entryway.

"Where is he?" Matt asked bluntly and clearly irritated. Near felt a rush of hope and, he supposed, just a twinge of joy. Maybe more than a twinge. He chose to play dumb until he was sure.

"If you mean Mello, then I would suppose he's somewhere in the minor squalor of your flat." Matt glared at him. It seemed he didn't believe the act Near was putting on for him.

"Don't be coy. I just wanted to talk to him, where is he?" Near was about to reply, when he realised something. He frowned.

"How did you find out my address if Mello didn't tell you it..?" he asked. Matt hesitated before smirking. He took a few steps towards Near before sharing his explanation.

"It was at your office. You should be more careful," he trilled. Near narrowed his eyes.

"No it wasn't. And how would you have got into my office anyway..? Did Mello put you up to this whole thing..?" Matt's smirk turned slightly sadistic.

"Wow, you mean he really isn't here? He didn't come crawling back to you..? Huh." He wandered off into the dining room and through to the kitchen to poke around. Near followed him with annoyance; feeling out of control in his own house.

"How did you get my address?" he asked again. Matt was engaged in rummaging through cupboards. He pulled out a measuring jug that had perhaps never been used and placed it on the side. Near waited for his answer with growing impatience.

"Well…" Matt started; clearly enjoying himself. "That's kind of a long story." He opened the fridge and took out a pint of milk, which he poured into the jug. He left the empty bottle hanging around; spoiling the otherwise meticulously organised kitchen. Near stared hard at the mess Matt was deliberately creating before looking back to the boy himself.

"Explain it," he demanded. Matt smiled to himself as he opened cupboard doors, without bothering to close them, until he found a box of cereal. He tipped some into the jug, allowing it to spill over the top. He left the open box on the counter, pulled a spoon out of a drawer and took the jug up by the handle.

"OK, I admit it. I was going to go and bother that Linda girl until she told me where you two lived." He smirked at Near, then began eating the cereal. Near's eye twitched. He crossed his arms. "Except, I knocked on the door for twenty minutes and she didn't answer. So I tried the door, and…" He sniggered, waving the spoon around and spilling milk on the floor. "It wasn't locked."

Near supposed she must have been in too much of a state to even remember to lock her door when she left. He felt faintly guilty, but the feeling was quickly buried under his growing anger towards Matt and the attempts to wind him up.

"And..?" Near asked; almost on the verge of grinding his teeth. Matt shrugged.

"And she had it lying around. I can't remember where; I checked through most of the rooms. But I _think_ it was…" He paused for effect, his smile malicious. "…somewhere along with the photo of the two of you." Near frowned, unsure why Matt found that so uplifting.

"Of Mello and me..?" Matt placed the jug carefully down on the counter, shaking his head.

"No. Of you and her. Which is odd, considering I remember how much you hate cameras." He allowed just a little laughter to creep into his voice. "Does Mello know you pose with your secretary..?"

Near's mind had drawn a total blank. He did hate cameras, not wanting his image to get out into the public eye, so he very rarely allowed people to take his picture. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd posed for a photograph. Let alone with Linda. And then, a memory which had never seemed significant returned to him.

--

Approximately two years ago he had told Mello they needed to hire someone to answer their phone and drive them places. Mello had refused, naturally, and asked Near aggressively why they needed someone else to do those things. Near had pointed out in what he had thought was a rational argument that neither of them could drive and that Mello and he both hated answering the phone. Mello had argued back for the best part of a day, but then finally agreed under the condition that the person Near hired was never to speak to him. Near had asked dryly if they were allowed to speak to him, as they would have to be able to talk to at least one of them. Mello had replied sourly that Near could talk to whomever he wanted.

The next day, Near had attempted to write a small advertisement to put in the paper. Mello had helped by making creative changes along the way. Near had told him coolly that they were not going to put an ad out asking for someone 'spineless', 'mute' or 'painfully unattractive'. Mello had, sniggering, told him he could hire some dumb eye-candy then; someone who could barely answer a phone and whom he would feel no qualms about killing the first time she tried to engage him in conversation. Near had ignored him.

Mello had secretly hoped he would hire someone like that; simply because he could fire her after a week and then convince Near that it had been a stupid idea all along. As such, he was not amused when he met Linda.

She had been the sole response to their ad. That in itself was quite an achievement, considering the unbelievable lack of details Near had supplied. She could have been applying for basically anything. Near had met her and offered her to take the job pretty quickly. Mello had never really understood why. He had always supposed it was simply because Near would have hated having to try advertising twice.

He was not at all pleased when he came into work with Near one day and saw a girl sitting at the previously empty desk outside their office door. He had challenged her to explain why she was there, and she had stuttered; eventually managing to spit out that Near had hired her the previous day. Mello had remained silent for a moment. Then he had asked to speak to Near in their office.

Near had quietly explained, around Mello's angry accusations that he'd been underhanded, that she had been willing to take a fairly small wage, start immediately and do pretty much whatever they needed her to. It seemed only logical to hire her.

Mello had glared at him. He had asked how old she was. Near had hesitated before admitting that she was seventeen. Mello had, contrary to what Near had expected, smirked. He had pointed out that that made her the same age as Near. Near had nodded slowly; not finding anything special in that. Mello had then said he'd go out and try meeting her again.

This time, he actually bothered to say hello. Cautiously, she had returned the greeting. He had asked her her name and she had told him, warming up slightly, that it was Linda. Mello had introduced himself as Near's partner. At that, she had suddenly become shy and awkward.

_Oh, I-I didn't realise he…_

Mello had been quick to correct the open-ended nature of his statement; assuring her that that was not what he had meant. And she had smiled. _Smiled_. It was at that moment that Mello had decided to dislike Linda. It was also when he had wondered why she had been so willing to accept the poor terms Near had offered her.

At that point, Near had stepped out of their office to check up on him. Mello watched with annoyance how Linda had responded shyly but cheerfully when Near asked her if everything was alright. He also bothered, at that point, to take note of her appearance. She was quite plain in most respects, but she was still, irritatingly, fairly pretty. Mello probably would have insisted then that they get rid of her. Except for Near. Near had merely nodded as she answered him and had turned straight away to Mello to start up a conversation about their case of the moment. She had seemed deflated. Mello had always disliked her, but he had never doubted that Near treated her entirely like wallpaper.

Of course, Near was not aware of any of that. He remembered little of the details of his decision to hire Linda or Mello's reaction to it. He did, however, find that Matt's cocky talk of the photograph brought something up.

A couple of days after Linda had started working for them, Mello had brought in a disposable camera with him to the office. He'd assured Near that he just wanted to take a few pictures of the building. Near had accepted that; not wanting to push the matter. Mello had stopped in the doorway when they'd entered and taken a couple of pictures of the wall. Linda had looked up warily; still suspecting, justifiably, that Mello didn't like her. Just as Near had reached out to open the door to their office, Mello had called out for him to turn around. He had, and when he had, Mello had taken his picture. Near had fussed about it for a while until Mello had agreed to get rid of it. He'd snapped a few more meaningless shots of their office and then handed the camera to Linda, asking her to get it developed.

Near hadn't ever seen the photos and had always assumed that Mello had disposed of the picture of him as he had promised. Unfortunately, Mello had not. Linda had done as she was asked and got the film developed for him, and then given the pictures to him one day when Near wasn't around. Mello had flicked through them until he came to the one he wanted.

The picture was blurry and out of focus, but the figures of Near and Linda were clearly recognizable. Linda looked bemused and Near appeared surprised and off-guard; neither of them at their best. it was a bad photo and, even if he hadn't disliked photos to begin with, Near probably would have wanted it destroyed simply for that. Mello had remembered aloud how Near had asked him to dispose of the picture. He'd mentioned, as if in casual conversation, that Near very rarely allowed photographs to be taken of himself. He'd dropped it boredly on the desk in front of Linda and asked if she could get rid of it.

She'd paused, then asked, if neither of them wanted it anyway, it would be too much trouble if she took it. Mello had acted surprised by the idea and pointed out that she didn't look very good in the photo; he'd be happy to take a better one if she just wanted to show her friends where she worked. She'd bit her lip a little and said nervously that she thought she looked fine. Besides, she didn't want to be a bother; that picture was good enough. Mello had shrugged and told her she could have it then. When he was safely out of her sight, he had smiled to himself. He'd laughed at the time about how incapable Near was of feeling anything for anyone and how foolish she was. If he had remembered it now, he probably would have hated the irony.

But all Near knew was that Mello had obviously not got rid of the photograph; he had given it to Linda. Which made him wonder if Mello had been far more aware of her feelings than he had. Which in turn made him wonder, with his stomach turning over, if that knowledge had affected his decision in choosing Matt at all.

Near came back to the present and noticed that Matt was still smirking at him. Although he now suspected that what the smirk was actually there for was to hide resentment. Matt must think that he and Linda were somehow involved. And considering, up until ten minutes ago, he had also thought that Mello had chosen to come running back to him, that must have been a fairly hard pill to swallow.

"Linda and I-" Near started.

"I don't really care," Matt butted in, allowing the hatred to filter into his voice. "I did care, when I thought Mello was here. But now that I know he doesn't want you after all, I don't." Matt placed the jug clumsily in the sink and pushed past Near on his way to the front door. Near turned around to watch him go. Matt paused as he rested his fingertips on the handle.

"By the way… where is she..?" he asked with faux innocence. He turned his head to look at Near when he answered.

"Uh… she… I'm not sure. She needed some time off." Near wanted him out as soon as possible. He was, for some reason, unable to stop answering Matt's questions.

"Oh. Why's that?" Before Near could respond, he added "Don't bother lying. You don't owe me any lies, right?" Near thought carefully for a moment as to whether he should try to lie or not. But Matt was right; he shouldn't bother wasting lies on him.

"Because she tried to… kiss me. And I can't-" Matt cut across him again.

"So does everyone who kisses you run away right afterwards..? Or just the ones I know about..?" Near stared at Matt wide-eyed for a moment. Matt smiled hatefully at him and let himself out of the door.

Near was left with the thought buzzing around his head. Eventually, he was forced to come to the conclusion that he was just not a very accessible person.


	16. Sixteen

**Sixteen**

For the second time in as many days, Near was interrupted from his thoughts by a frantic knocking at the front door. Matt must have come back to bother him. Or maybe he'd decided that Mello must be here after all. Either way, Near wasn't in the mood.

He reached the door and pulled it open long enough to yell, actually yell, for the boy to leave him alone. Then he slammed it.

Outside, Mello stood in shock with his hand halfway up to the door as if to knock again. Obviously when he had supposed Near would never slam a door in his face he had been wrong.

After a second, the knocking continued and Near turned back to the door irritably. Matt was obviously not going to be silenced so easily. This time, he opened it properly. He actually looked at the person on his doorstep. He blinked.

"Well who did you think I was?" Mello muttered, pressing carefully past and taking up stance behind him with arms folded. Near spun around in sudden surprise; allowing the door to close by itself.

"Sorry…" he murmured. "I thou- You're back." He didn't seem able to comprehend that. It bothered Mello. It made it seem as if he didn't care about Near.

"Yes, I am. And I think maybe we should talk."

A few minutes later, at Mello's request, the two had set themselves down at the dining table, across from one another. Mello's expression seemed fairly calm. Near wasn't sure what to make of that. But Mello had come to him, not Matt…

"What did you want to say..?" Near asked cautiously. He was almost sure that he'd want to hear it. Almost.

"I want to move back in here," Mello said quietly. His eyes had been on the table, but as he said that, they met Near's. "I'm sorry."

Near was rendered speechless. This was different. He'd been hoping that Mello would do this, say that, but it didn't seem right. Mello seemed unhappy still. He suddenly feared that Mello had just visited Matt and apologised with the same intention, and that Matt had refused him after all. It was possible, and it would be horrible.

"Did you speak to Matt, then..?" Near muttered, breaking the gaze. Mello raised an eyebrow.

"Not yet. I wanted to speak to you first. Now… tell me if you forgive me." Near looked up again. He had allowed himself to smile.

"I do, yes. Mello, you know that I-" Mello raised a hand to stop him.

"Stop." Near's smile fell. "That's only half of it." Mello sighed, twisting his fingers into his hair. "I've been thinking a lot, of course, this week. And it's been hard, really hard, to pick between the two of you. I can't imagine living without you in my life…" Near's face twitched, as if he wasn't sure whether he was supposed to be smiling or not. "But then again, it seemed impossible to just forget Matt like that. So I kept thinking. And I finally found the perfect solution."

"I have a bad feeling you're going to suggest something like-"

"Listen. I decided that it isn't possible or fair or even rational to kick you out of my life. I want us to keep doing everything as we have done for years now. And I want to come back home." Near shook his head slowly.

"OK, that sounds good. But what about Matt..?" Mello cleared his throat. Near felt uneasy again. Accepting Mello's proposal seemed a lot like eating a slice of cake that has been left out next to an open bottle of bleach. Suspicious.

"Well… That is where I don't think we're going to be on the same page. I still want us to be as we always have been… Up until the point I lost my memory. I want us to go back to that." Near had been right. He paused before speaking.

"So… You want to pretend none of this ever happened..?"

"Yes," Mello said, turning away and fiddling with his fringe. He had guessed correctly that Near wasn't going to be completely on board with the idea.

"And where does that leave Matt?" Near asked, beginning to let annoyance show in his voice.

"I, uh… I want to keep seeing Matt." Near noticed that Mello's voice was growing a little quieter and he was playing with his hair more and more as he spoke.

"And you think we can forget all this..?" He felt hurt by the very idea. Mello obviously didn't care very much about him. He probably didn't want to have to get around to finding a different job. It just seemed so trivial, and he'd acted as if it was good news!

"No," Mello said sharply. He placed his hands back on the table and fixed Near with a gaze that told him to listen. "I don't think that's possible. But I don't want to cut you out of my life. You; the person who knows me best. The one with whom I share my past and my memories and my life. It's stupid to even think about abandoning you like that. Why, is that what you want..?"

"No…" Near whispered, shaking his head. His voice and his resolve were weakened by Mello's sudden change in tone. He seemed so sure. "But, I can't-"

"It wouldn't work, Near. We can hardly be friends. What makes you think we'd be any better together if we were a couple..?" Mello was making more and more sense, but he didn't want to hear it.

"But I, I mean, I lov-"

"No. You need me. That's different. I don't think you love me at all," Mello said, his voice softening. Near wasn't going to accept it. He stuck his lip out defiantly.

"I know what I feel!" Mello sighed.

"Do you..? How? Stop being childish, Near!"

"I'm not!"

"Yes you are! You act as if I'm the one who's going to throw our lives away, but it's _you_ who will, if you push this. It won't end well, Near. It couldn't end well. How long would you give us..? Honestly?" Near stuttered for a second; trying to stand by his point. But more and more he found he couldn't.

"We… We could make it last, if we wanted to…" His voice grew ever quieter as he began to realise he was wrong.

"No, Near. What about when we get into a fight? You think I'd be able to stop myself from hurting you again..? And believe me; it would hurt a lot worse than it _ever_ has before."

Mello had him. There was no other way of looking at it. Regardless of whether Near really loved him or not, and it seemed it was likely not, they would end up fighting, and Mello would hurt him. Near wouldn't want that, and then Mello would have to leave for good. He wouldn't be able to take that back. And that would be so much worse than this. Mello had, finally, come to the perfect decision.

--

Matt didn't hear the knocking for some time. When he'd come back from Near's house yesterday, he had been so angry all he'd done was pull his bedcovers over his head and scream until he'd fallen asleep. The next morning, when he'd woken up, he'd gone straight to trying to drown his misery in a video game. It was only when he finally turned it off and caught sight of his reflection in the black screen that he'd realised his hair was still full of dry milk.

Matt had crawled under the shower two minutes before the knocking started and had stayed there for a good ten. When he stepped out and heard it, he assumed angrily that it was Near come to get his own back for the day before. He wrapped a towel around his waist, hoping to deter him from coming in, and went to answer it.

When he did and saw not only Near but Mello, he wished he'd bothered to get dressed.

"Hi… Matt," Mello said slowly, trying to figure out why he had answered the door in the way he had. He assumed, from the look of horror on his face, that Matt had not been expecting him.

"Mello..?" Matt said quietly. "What are you doing here?" He hesitated before adding "With him." Near ignored it; trying to politely keep his eyes to himself.

"I came to tell you my decision." Matt swallowed; rapping his nails against the inside of the door.

"Oh… I see. Do you mind if I get dressed then, first?"

A while later, the three of them were sat on Matt's sofa. Mello cleared his throat to begin. Matt couldn't wait.

"I know you're going to choose him, and you shouldn't!" he blurted out. Mello frowned. Near scowled momentarily; forcing himself to drop it.

"Actually, Matt, I want to pick you." Seeing the boy's face light up, he quickly continued. "But! I'm not going to completely cut ties with Near." Matt's joy was instantly suppressed and a confused look struck him.

"What? You don't mean-"

"I'm still going to be working with him. And… living with him. For now. I don't want to move in with you right away."

"Yes, he has a habit of causing trouble for people when he's living with them," Near muttered. He was blanked by the other two.

"OK, but… The two of us…" Matt took a deep breath. "We'll get to be together, right..?"

"Yes," Mello smiled. "If you can forgive me for… well, you know."

"Oh right, the murder," Matt muttered, considering it. "I guess you can explain that, though, right? I mean, you don't make a habit of it..?"

"No. I'll explain everything later." Matt smiled warmly.

"Then yeah. I'd like that."

Mello let himself smile as well. Near rolled his eyes and sighed. Matt leaned forward and he and Mello shared a kiss; an honest kiss. When they broke apart, they both remained smiling.

"I have to say…" Matt started, then stopped; sniggering. Mello frowned at him.

"What?" he asked.

"You're the best thing I've ever found in a pile of rubbish."


	17. A Bonus

_**A/N --**_

_Hi there, this would be the author speaking. This is the last chapter. And while I quite like the ending I've given this fic, you might not. As you may have noticed, the last chapter ended very cheerfully. Well, what I'm saying is if you'd rather leave it on a happy note, feel free to accept that as the ending. Not that this chapter is too bad; no-one dies or anything. XD Well.. don't feel you have to scroll down, mmkay..?_

_--_

**A Bonus**

Mello regretted at once having to wake up. Some days he could handle it quite comfortably, but today was not going to be pleasant. He groaned as he pulled himself into a sitting position and ran a hand clumsily through his hair.

"Good morning." Mello turned to see an outstretched hand offering him a glass of water. He took it and placed it on the nightstand before shifting to the side to let them get back into the bed.

"Good is pushing it," he muttered. The boy beside him laughed politely. Mello glanced at him. "I'm sorry about this, Near."

"You always are. After it's too late for 'sorry' to matter." Near sighed. Mello frowned. He looked at him; Near had put on a fresh set of clothes already.

"You say 'always' as if we do this a lot. It's only happened twice." Near rolled his eyes. He reached across Mello to take the glass of water and sipped from it.

"It's been two months, Mello. It _is_ a lot."

--

In the two months since Mello had decided he wanted to be with Matt, they had had three fights. The first had been very minor; a spat. It had been resolved within twenty minutes. Neither of them had found it at all worrying. Until the second.

Mello had arrived at Matt's flat later than they'd agreed upon. He had explained that he'd been held up at work, and Matt, stupidly, had made a snide remark under his breath. Unfortunately for him; Mello had heard it.

They'd spent almost an hour arguing; during which time Matt had accused Mello of only wanting to live with Near still because he hadn't wanted to make a real decision. Shortly after that, Mello had stomped out.

When Near had heard their front door slam, he was confused. Mello was supposed to be out all night; a thought he'd been somewhat ignoring. Despite what Mello had said about him probably not being in love with him, and his accurate portrayal of what their life would have been like, Near had not settled happily into the new routine.

He'd ventured out of his room and down the stairs in time to see Mello march into his bedroom. Reluctantly, he had gone over and knocked on the door. Mello had told him he could come in. When he did, he saw that Mello was lying on his bed with his face buried in a pillow. He hadn't looked his age.

Mello hadn't looked up from the pillow, but had started talking to him anyway. Or whining anyway. He'd told Near about his fight with Matt; concluding by saying that Matt's jealousy was really going to make his life hell. When he'd finished speaking, he pulled his head up and moved into a sitting position. He'd patted the bed beside him to let Near know he was welcome to sit down. As Near had tentatively taken the invitation, he'd asked Mello why he didn't just move in with Matt if it was going to be so difficult for him not to.

Mello had spat back that he didn't want to rearrange his entire life for one relationship. At least, not until he knew if it was going to work out or not. Near had been caught by surprise by that. He had assumed that when Mello had chosen Matt he'd known for sure that they would be happy. Otherwise, what was the point..? He'd dared to ask the question aloud.

Near didn't understand the response he got. Mello had looked at him and told him that it wasn't about certainty; it was about hope and gut instincts. But then again, Near had never understood how people got by on those two things.

After a little while, Mello had sighed. He'd wondered out loud how he'd made one of the biggest decisions of his life for someone who, it seemed, didn't even trust him. Near had shrugged. He'd mentioned that Mello had only just finished telling him that sometimes you just had to do what felt right in the moment. He'd then cuttingly added that you often still had to do that, even if the other option later turned out to be the right one.

Mello had seemingly not heard the last part, as he'd trailed off into thought. Near had been just about to ask him what he was thinking about, when Mello had reached over and kissed him on the lips. Near had quickly drawn away and asked what he was doing. Mello had not replied; instead pulling him back into the kiss. Near had only tried to fight him off for another couple of seconds before resigning himself.

Mello had pressed him down into the sheets and begun to unbutton his shirt before Near once again had the courage to ask him why he was doing so. Mello had stared at him for a second, as if it should be obvious, then told him that, sometimes, you just went with your gut and hoped it was the right decision later. Near had not asked him any more questions.

It was only the next morning, when they had both woken up together and had been forced to clear their minds, that Mello admitted he shouldn't have done it. He'd apologised and quickly kissed Near on the forehead in a sympathetic gesture, before dressing himself and leaving as fast as possible. When he'd come back that evening, he'd quietly promised Near that it would not happen again. Near had correctly assumed that Mello had not told Matt.

It was now the morning after the second fight, and Mello had managed quite spectacularly to break his promise.

--

Near waited outside the room while Mello guiltily crawled back into his clothes. When he appeared in the doorway, Near turned to look at him with an unapproving expression. Mello sighed.

"I'm not going to do it again. I swear; even if we have a huge fight, I won't let myself."

"Of course not, Mello." Near didn't bother to argue with him. "Are you going to go and see him again, now..?"

"I am," Mello said softly. Near noticed he didn't look at him as he spoke.

"And I take it you won't tell him." He didn't make it a question, and Mello didn't answer. Instead, he reached down and quickly brushed Near's lips with his own then turned to leave.

Near waited until he heard the front door click closed then sighed. There was, he told himself for the second time, no such thing as a perfect decision.

**End.**

--

**_A/N --_**

_And that's it! I really enjoyed writing this, and my next DN fanfiction is already mapped out in my head. It won't be too lnog until I start submitting it, although I must say it's a little different to my others. XD I just want to say that, whilst writing this, I think I kept Sartre in mind a bit (Existentialism and Humanism). So there we go, heh. For those who aren't avid philosophers; 'the only thing you can't choose is not to choose'. Go figure. :3_


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